Wrath of the Dahlia
by Tomas the Betrayer
Summary: A reputation has value, and the Black Dahlia guards hers jealously. Another trinity of chapters exploring the Skullgirls' merciless female hitman.
1. Signature Moves

Annie looked up as a shadow fell over her. "Yes?"

"Pardon me, ma'am." The blue-eyed fellow in an Egret uniform gingerly held out a photograph. "If you would be so kind…?"

" _Wait your turn, stupid!"_

" _Yeah!"_

" _Your eyes are like a doll's!"_

The soldier flinched as even more of the swarming crowd of children turned upon him. Meanwhile the young starlet went back to signing another poster. Once finished she handed it over to the owner, who laughed happily and went racing back to the stands where her mother waited. Annie then studied the officer, who looked severely out of place standing on the edge of all these furious tater tots. Judging by the way he kept fidgeting, it was not lost on him how strange this looked. The kids in turn glared at this much taller challenger for their hero's attention.

Riots had started over less. She decided it was best to get him out of here quickly. "Hand it over, soldier boy."

"Thank you!" He hesitated, sweating in his olive-gray uniform. "And can you please make it out to… um, 'My #1 Super-Fan, P.P.'?" he queried over the outraged hubbub.

"Sure…" Annie responded evenly.

He proffered her picture with a smile of pure relief.

"… for twenty bucks."

His grin froze even as she reached over the heads of her shorter fans, snatching up the photo. The star of 'Glorious Annie – Symphony of Star Stuff' proceeded to sign with a teal-colored fountain pen topped by a large golden star. As she was doing so, Annie watched her admirer paw through his uniform, coming up with a wallet and hurriedly counting out the requisite amount. He offered the bills, which she took in return for the autographed copy. The poor fellow then beat a hasty retreat before he could lose any further money or dignity.

Sitting in the seat reserved for her, 'Annie of the Stars' glanced around the studio where her latest television program was being filmed. They were on break before the next scene, which meant she had to fulfill the duties of the Canopy Kingdom's most beloved child star. Other members of the film guild hustled around while moving props or shouting questions. The studio's huge bay doors were open, allowing sunlight to come flooding in from the street outside. More performers strolled in and out of the backlot on their way to work, along with caterers wheeling in meals or executive assistants demanding to make themselves heard.

By now such things were commonplace for her. While outwardly no more than a child herself, Annie had been a part of the film industry for longer than anyone, from seasoned grips to heralded directors. Her aquamarine locks were combed down to cover the eyepatch and done up in pigtails this time around. A simple change of hairstyle was sufficient to throw most people off. There were still plenty of ways to remain anonymous in this world even with the advent of moving pictures and photographic evidence. Not like she needed anyone catching on to her being an eternally youthful nemesis of Skullgirls throughout the ages.

And speaking of anonymous…

"Hey, boss, is it my cue yet? I'm ready to pounce!"

"Keep your hair-shirt on, Baywatch! We'll call you when it's time. MAKEUP!"

"Actually, it's Beowulf, sir."

"Like anyone cares! Shake your tail-feathers, ladies, the big dance number's up next! Where's Tiffany?! Anybody seen Tiffany? What? Called in _sick?!_ Nobody said anything to me! _MAKEUP!_ "

Still signing autographs, the sharp-eyed actress watched her co-star Beowulf get brushed off by the director for the umpteenth time today. Although maybe 'co-star' was too fine a term to describe what he did around here. Maybe 'glorified set-piece' would be more accurate. The former pro-wrestler and national idol turned third-rate actor glanced around as people with better things to do hustled on by without sparing him a look. He still wore that humiliating wolf outfit she felt certain someone from the costume department had designed as a cruel joke. Only Beowulf's face was visible, a testament to poor living. With bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin, the big lunk shambled dejectedly over and plopped himself down on a crate across the way where he sat with chin on hand.

His bleary eyes lingered woefully on the eager fans still clamoring to get her autograph. When the latest happy customer went racing by with her prize he perked up and said something to her, probably asking if she wanted his signature too. But the kid ignored him completely. Beowulf slumped on his improvised seat with a glum expression.

Annie took note of his distress. Poor guy. She worried what would become of him when it came time for her to abandon this roll and quietly assume a fresh one. Annie resolved to treat him to dinner after work. Small recompense, but little things like that could matter a great deal at the end of the day.

As she was thinking this, a gleaming black sedan pulled into the studio and slowed to a halt, its engine growling.

Several people took note of this besides her. Murmurs came from showgirls and stagehands alike. Somebody tapped on the director's shoulder to draw his attention to this occurrence. He was just drawing breath to demand an explanation for such an intrusion onto his domain, when the front passenger's seat opened, and a figure stepped out.

Things got quiet after that, and everyone went back to minding their own business. The person in question threw a cool look around to make sure of this before slamming the car door shut. Annie continued to attend to the demands of her fans who took no notice of there being anything wrong. At the same time, however, she kept a watchful eye on the newcomer as he came sauntering in her direction.

She knew him. His name was Marco or Mickey, something like that. She settled for just calling him Mickey in her head. He was a low-level goon for the Medici charged with collecting dues from local businesses who wanted to stay on the mafia's ostensible good side. Wearing black pants and a tacky salmon-colored shirt, the little twerp weighed 90 pounds soaking wet but he walked like he owned the place, a laughably wispy moustache on his lip and enough grease in his hair to make smoking cigarettes an invitation to self-immolation. A gun shouted for attention in its holster strapped to his side.

Uncaring, Mickey walked to within a few feet of her. He didn't so much as flick an eyelash in Annie's direction. Instead the grunt made his way to an office set into the wall behind her. He grabbed the knob and strode in without bothering to knock. "Hey, old man!" came clearly right before the door slammed shut behind him.

This routine was nothing new. It was that time of the month, when the Medici demanded tribute from their quivering vassals. All the same, Annie couldn't help but feel suspicious. What's with the expensive set of wheels? Usually Mickey just came ghosting in from the lot and scooted out after collecting the money, pausing now and then to flirt with the dancing girls or intimidate the best boys. That kind of ride was outside his pay grade. Something was going down, and she didn't like the smell of it.

Moments later, a deep voice shouted, "WHAT?!"

Right then the office door opened and Mickey came strolling back out hoisting a thick envelope. "I said, you're light, Pops."

As he rejoined them the producer Max Blomqvist emerged in pursuit. With pinstriped shirtsleeves rolled up to show off thick hairy forearms and a half-finished cigar tucked in his jaws, the studio head more closely resembled a dockside foreman than a mover and shaker in the moving picture business. Slightly shorter than Mickey but twice as broad, he would have had no trouble picking up the Mafioso and snapping him over his knee. But he restrained himself, though it cost him dearly if the look on his face was any indication. Blomqvist's chubby features had gone pink from the top of his bald pate to the tip of his nose, a curly white mustache twitching furiously beneath it.

"You didn't even count it, you little punk!" Max swore as he stormed past Annie and her followers. "That's the same amount I gave you last month, to the penny!"

"That's what I mean." Mickey turned to face the incensed producer with a disdainful frown. "See, you gave me the old value. But things have changed. Lorenzo wants more. So how 'bout you dial down the volume and listen to what I gotta say? Cuz believe you me," and he gave Max an unfriendly stare, "I am not joking around here."

The mention of Lorenzo Medici's name served to cool Max's fury like a sudden cloudburst. He clenched his fists and glowered through a cloud of smoke. "How much?"

A smirk caused the side of the goomba's mouth to twitch. "Twenty-five thousand."

The cigar fell and hit the ground in a blaze of sparks. _"Twenty-fi…_ that's over DOUBLE what I'm paying now!"

"Hey, you can count, that's great! Now wadda ya say we quit wasting both our time and you just hand me the dough pronto. I got other stops to make today, and I don't like being late."

In the background Annie had stopped signing autographs. None of the children complained; even they had noticed the oppressive air that had settled over the formerly lively studio. People took a wide berth around the two men. A few of the more attentive parents had come over to lead their offspring back to the audience bleachers. The TV star continued to watch carefully. Even Beowulf perked up and was peering around in a clueless manner, clearly wondering what the fuss might be about.

"I'm calling this in," Blomqvist snarled through clenched teeth, face twisted with rage. "I want to hear from someone more important than _you_ that this is legit! Otherwise you're not getting another _dime_ out of me!"

He spun about towards his office, and as he did, Mickey reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Pops. You got any idea who's sitting in that car over there?"

He indicated towards the idling sedan. Now everyone, Max included, turned their attention to this slick set of wheels.

"Lorenzo knows he's asking a lot. But he also knows… that it's worth it! This is all for your benefit." The slimy shyster draped an arm around the producer's shoulders. "Which is why he sent along somebody to address any complaints that might pop up."

He then pitched his voice louder so that it carried to every corner of the set.

"That's _BLACK DAHLIA_ in there, man."

Upon mention of the name, any remaining residual noise vanished in a heartbeat. The silence that followed made this bustling movie set seem like a church. Or a cemetery. No one dared speak. Even Annie tensed at the recognition of danger.

A sound emerged: a slight buzz. It caused several people to flinch or cry out. Before their eyes, the rear window of the car rolled down. Not even halfway, but enough for them all to see the veiled face looking out at them. There was nothing else. Not even a whisper. And yet several people in that lot felt themselves closer to death than they had ever been. One of them was Max Blomqvist if the way his body sagged was any evidence.

The Dahlia turned her attention on him so that the big man began to tremble. Barely visible through the thick veil there emerged a slow smile. One eye gleamed with terrifying promise.

"I'll get the money," he whispered in a defeated croak. "I'm sorry."

A pause. Then the darkened window slowly rolled back up to leave nothing but their own reflections gazing back.

"Good job, chuckles." The gangster at his elbow gave a malicious laugh. "Hop to it, alright?"

Max set off towards his office at a rapid pace. For her part Annie was thinking furiously. Would the top assassin of the Medici crime family really consent to be a ride-along for a bottom feeder like Mickey? The chances of that were low. But at the same time, the odds that _anybody_ in this town would invoke Black Dahlia's name without her consent just didn't exist! Especially if they worked for the Medici. Those guys knew, better than most _,_ what that woman did to people who made light of her publicly. Judges had been found slaughtered along with their families. Entire buildings were burned to the ground with everybody inside! There was a rumor members of the Renoir royal family had been successfully targeted by her. Sweet hominy, the Dahlia killed a _Skullgirl_ on at least one occasion, and Annie knew full well just how perilous that could prove to be!

So as implausible as this might sound, no one was going to call them on it. Some risks weren't worth taking. Curiosity only went so far before it killed the cat and everybody who ever cleaned its litterbox. The smart move was to just pay the money and shut up.

"HEY!"

"Oh, grapefruit!" Annie hissed.

Across the way Beowulf had risen to his feet and was striding forward, still in that sorry excuse for a costume. Shouts and warnings came from all sides. A few of the kids started crying at the top of their lungs. Blomqvist came running back waving his arms yelling, "WAIT!"

The big doofus didn't react to any of this. He just kept right on walking. Straight towards the car. "Who do you think you are, trying to muscle us?!" Beowulf bellowed. "The Wolf Pack's not afraid of any… Blue Dolly! Why don't you come out here and fight me like a man!"

"You crazy _faccia brutta!"_ Mickey screamed. His air of smug superiority had vanished. In its place was a fear that spoke far more to his true nature. "You wanna die?! _Don't go near that car!"_

The shaggy dolt just lifted his head and howled loudly without breaking stride. He was almost there. In response, Mickey pulled his pistol and aimed it straight at Beowulf's head. Somewhere a woman screamed.

Another shriek sounded over the bedlam and the gun clattered harmlessly to the ground. Mickey clutched his hand to yank something loose. It fell beside the gun, revealed to be a star-topped fountain pen with blood dripping from its nib. One of the kids who wasn't screaming looked curiously at Annie, who stood grim-faced and empty-handed in their midst. At the same time, Beowulf reached his destination, yanking open the door to reach inside.

When he came out, a pillbox hat sporting a veil fell to roll across the floor.

"Alright, now show me what you're made… of…"

Beowulf tilted his head curiously.

"Say, do I know you?"

The woman he held by the wrist looked too stricken with fear to respond.

"Tammy… no, wait… Tiffany!" Her captor snapped his fingers inside his big furry mitten and smiled down at her like a maniac. "You're one of the dancing gals! Hey, I thought you were sick?"

Right then the black sedan went roaring into reverse, leaving a patch of smoking rubber on the floor. Beowulf hopped clear with the terrified Tiffany held in the crook of one brawny arm. The car fishtailed wildly as it came barreling out of the studio into the adjacent street.

BOOM!

More screams filled the air as the sedan was flipped over onto its side and wobbled for a bit before upending completely with its spinning wheels sticking up in the air like a dead possum. The tour bus it had collided with screeched to a halt a few feet away.

Those who had witnessed this disaster could only stare for the most part. However Mickey took this opportunity to bolt for the open street still clutching his wounded limb. As he passed by Beowulf a tremendous arm swung out and clocked him right in the chest. Such was the force behind this blow that the goon's feet flew straight into the air. He landed so hard the breath left his lungs, leaving him dazed and whimpering.

For a while nobody moved. Then one little kid broke away from the group and went trotting over to stand beside the wolf man. He tugged on the costume, and when Beowulf looked down, the boy held up a pad and pen.

"Can I get yer audagrab?" he piped up.

* * *

A cop car showed up within ten minutes. Somebody made the call before anyone could stop them. Two police officers now stood off to one side talking to Max. Elsewhere Beowulf was in heaven, surrounded by adoring children blown away by his heroics. Even their parents looked impressed as he signed his name on anything handy whilst regaling them with the tales of his exploits in the ring during the war. Mickey and Tiffany were already handcuffed in the back of the squad car along with the unconscious driver, who turned out to be Tiffany's boyfriend. Things seemed to have calmed down.

Alone and unremarked, Annie leaned against a wall with arms crossed and lone eye narrowed in anger.

This stewing rage was directed at quite a lot of people. For starters, that idiot Beowulf for sticking his big nose in. Then, whoever called the cops, and finally, those three _morons_ for thinking they could pull off something like this in the first place!

It was pretty obvious what happened. One of the Three Stooges (probably Mickey) came up with an ingenious plan to bilk people out of money. If they could just convince the usual clients that their monthly protection payment had gone up, then they could pocket all that extra cash with no one being the wiser. Of course, when it came to money, folks were bound to ask questions, even those long cowed by the authority of the Medici. So to make their brilliant scheme work, they needed a way to scare any naysayers into going along without a fuss. And what better way than to imply they had an infamous maniac in reserve ready to blow the heads off of whomever spoke out against the rate increase? So they rented a spiffy set of wheels, fixed Tiffany up with a cheap Dahlia mask, and went fishing. Three other places fell for the scam before it all came apart, a testament to just how much even seasoned players in New Meridian had learned to fear the sight of that veil.

Of course, when _she_ learns about this…

Annie studied the prisoners. Tiffany was sobbing her eyes out. Mickey kept his closed, rocking back and forth in his seat like a little kid. If their drawers were still dry, it was only because they were too scared to squeeze a drop. How could they have been so dumb? Did they really think they would get away with it? The oldest of them hadn't even reached twenty-five. They were _children,_ as much as those little tikes mobbing Beowulf. Sweet sassafras, what's the world coming to?

I shouldn't get involved any more than I am. There's too much attention as it is. I don't want anyone looking closely at me or my history.

Despite the truth to this statement, when the cops broke away and headed back to their cruiser she slipped over to join them. "Hey."

The two men turned to regard her. One was old, the other young. She tried not to get a good look at their faces, keeping her attention roaming idly about as she sidled closer. "I'd appreciate if you didn't mention anything about _that_ in your report."

Annie lifted a finger and pointed it at the pillbox hat one of them held. With the other hand, she unobtrusively extended a thick wad of bills.

The cops glanced between each other. Then the older one held out the hat. "Here, miss," he stated casually. "Think this might be one of your props."

She accepted it, allowing him to palm the money during the exchange. Without another word, the ageless actress turned to drift quietly away. Behind her the lawmen got in their car and went speeding off. Goodbye, you three. Consider yourselves lucky. The damning evidence she tossed into a box along with other assorted costumes, there to wind up in some cheap daytime soap opera, its sordid history never to be revealed.

Annie headed towards her dressing room. Beowulf didn't look like he would appreciate being drawn away from the adoring throngs, even for a free meal. So that dinner plan had been tabled. Although, considering today, maybe now would be a good time to start thinking about retirement…

"Annie."

She stopped as Max Blomqvist approached her. That big bald head drifted around to make sure no one was watching. Then he held out her pen. The tip had been wiped clean of blood.

"I told them I stabbed him with it," the old man remarked in a low voice. "No questions asked that way."

"Thanks." Annie retrieved the item without looking at him. They began walking together towards the set. Then, as recompense, she added, "Don't worry about Tiffany. I paid the cops. We shouldn't hear anything about it. She'll get off light, with any luck."

Max's head jerked down slightly, and he regarded her in a surprised manner. "You… _I_ paid them off! When we were talking! I promised more if there was nothing in tomorrow's paper!"

Annie drew to a halt. Her golden eye narrowed slightly. Greed was never a good sign in an agreement. It meant someone would always be coming back for more. Right then she knew it was definitely the correct moment to start planning her show's finale. The timing could be better, but life didn't always take your input into account.

One more show. Then she would be gone.

* * *

Sitting in her dressing room, Annie of the Stars slammed a fist onto the newspaper spread out before her, regretting that she couldn't curse. At a time like this, it might just help.

She had got her wish. Their adventure yesterday was just a side-note to a bigger story. The headline said it all:

' **THREE BURNED TO DEATH IN SCHOOLYARD EXECUTION!'**

The picture showed charred corpses, all traces of identity erased by the flames. Their empty eye sockets stared over gaping black tar teeth. Whatever information wasn't included in the article she could easily piece together on her own. They were released on bail. No need to ask who paid it. Then they were taken to an elementary school playground in the middle of the night, where she handcuffed them to a merry-go-round, doused them in gasoline and set them on fire. But first she cut off all their fingers and left them in a bag nearby along with three dahlias. So that the victims could be identified afterwards. That way everyone would know who they were, why this was done to them, and most importantly, by whom.

The message was clear: you did not play around with Black Dahlia's good name.

Annie got up and hoisted a duffle bag with a big yellow star on her shoulder. Inside was her Star Sword, her Parasite partner Sagan, a few changes of clothes and some provisions. 'Glorious Annie – Symphony of Star Stuff' would go off the air after today's taping. The check had been cut and she was headed out. Some time spent clear of the public eye, and she would be back for another showing like nothing happened. Same as always.

A knock sounded at her dressing room door. Annie paused before going to answer. When it opened, she at first didn't recognize who it was on the other side.

"Please…"

At last it came to her: one of the cops from yesterday, the young one. He looked so bad, no wonder she hadn't known him. His eyes were red-rimmed, wide as could be in a pale, sickly face. He was sweating and shaking as though suffering from a fever. Tears poured down his cheeks. He held out a bunch of cash.

"Please… take it back!"

Annie looked at the offering for a while, then up at him.

"How much did you get for the info?" she asked in a coldly casual voice.

A gasping breath ripped from his throat, and he collapsed before her, eyes shut and racked with sobs. "I didn't… know!" he gibbered uncontrollably. "My niece… she goes to that… school! She went out… onto the playground. She saw it… she _smelled_ it! She won't stop crying, I…!"

His voice failed him. Wordlessly he proffered the money once more.

Annie looked at this wreck. There was no pity to be found in her face at all when she spoke.

"Keep it. You earned it."

His teeth ground together audibly. _"Please!"_ the cop begged her with tears in his eyes.

The green-haired girl stepped past him without so much as a glance. Behind her the police officer curled up in the hallway and started whimpering. Annie of the Stars walked away from her empire, as she had so many times before without a qualm. But this time a bit of regret lingered. It was her sworn duty to fight the Skull Heart and its ruinous wielders. Nothing mattered more than keeping that catastrophic power in check. Annie had let crimes occur right in front of her without bothering to intervene. She couldn't risk exposing herself for anything less than a Skullgirl.

But there were some people, some women she had met in her unspeakably long life that Annie had been tempted to kill outright. Just to prevent such monsters from ever coming close to the Skull Heart. And this one was _sorely_ tempting.

She did not ever want to know… what a woman like that would wish for.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin

Wild cries ripped from throats gone raw with screaming. Bodies hurtled through the air. A sickly sweet smell filled their nostrils while projectiles rained down from all sides. One came rocketing towards Parasoul, and immediately an Egret flung himself before her. _"I've got this one!"_

There came a splash, followed by excited laughter. The perpetrator stuck his tongue out at them and went racing off in search of another target.

Dripping wet, Adam Kapowski turned and saluted his leader with grave demeanor. "Commander, the situation has been resolved."

Princess Parasoul looked her dutiful follower up and down. "You really took one for the team there."

"Ma'am, I…"

At that moment a second water balloon struck him right in the back of the head, causing Adam to grimace.

"I mean, it was no…"

Followed by another…

"That is to say…"

… and three more one right after the other until he was completely drenched. Adam spun about, pale blue eyes raking the crowd madly. "Alright, who's doing that?! Step forward at once and identify yourself!"

 _SPLASH!_

"Carry on." The red-headed military leader swept by her soaked underling in search of their target. He was here somewhere; shouldn't be too hard to spot him considering the makeup of this crowd…

All around them kids ran wild on the ground level of a convention center in New Meridian's business district. Boys and girls shouted and played with wild abandon as they partook of the cornucopia of delights available here. The sprawling arena was a child's dream come true. Huge baskets of candy were spaced out at regular intervals which they could dip into for free. A soda fountain in the shape of a big plastic clown distributed root beer floats and a variety of ice cream flavors. Entertainers in clown costumes performed with one another or painted faces of the happy participants. The center of the room had been converted into a small petting zoo with miniature ponies, puppies, kittens, and even baby ducks. There were swings to ride on, trampolines, an inflatable bouncy castle, even a silver fountain of apple cider right next to a golden one of liquid milk chocolate with fruit to dip into. And of course, water balloons.

"They've got a _balloon tree!"_ The six-year-old princess Umbrella gasped beside her. Wearing a butter-cream colored Sunday school dress and polished black shoes with white stockings, she pointed excitedly at this source of merriment before squirming her hand out of Parasoul's and making a beeline for it.

"Umbrella!" her older sister snapped. "Don't run off on your own, it's–! Oh, that little…"

Too late. She had already vanished into the press.

"I'm on it, Commander!" So saying, Adam made his way carefully through a knee-deep sea of overstimulated adolescents. She caught a glimpse of a small pink head cresting the rise, demanding to know where another child had got a jump-rope-long length of licorice whip. When the source was pointed out Umbrella swiftly set off in pursuit. Adam spotted her at the same time and followed the tiny princess, for which Parasoul knew she would have to be content. Asking any child to show restraint here went against the very heart of this celebration.

She looked over at Egret #13, the other officer accompanying her. "Let's go." He nodded stiffly and took up step at her back to shadow the determined aristocrat as they traversed the floor.

For this evening's mission Parasoul had chosen a sleeveless evening gown with black sequins and a slit running up both legs. She wore elbow-length grey gloves, fiery hair pulled up at the back of her head by a clasp in the shape of the royal family's seal. The symbol of the Trinity still dangled from her neck as was her wont, however one other personal accessory she normally carried was conspicuously lacking. Namely, the Living Weapon Krieg, currently outside in the care of a platoon of Egrets for her to reclaim afterwards. Its absence left her feeling more exposed and vulnerable than she would ever care to admit. But the host of this event made one thing very clear when inviting them: no matter who you might be, weapons were not permitted. These poor souls didn't need any reminder of what violence had cost them.

On that much, Parasoul could agree with him.

The annual Survivor's Soiree in New Meridian had been held regularly for the past thirty years by the Capulet family. Alessandro Capulet, current head of the clan, was one of the richest men in the kingdom. His interests were varied, but the vast bulk of the family fortune derived from mining and property. The Capulets held deeds to a great deal of land within Canopolis and New Meridian, rivalling anyone besides the Renoir and the Medici. This enabled Alessandro to easily afford such a long-standing display of gracious charity as the Soiree. Most residents of New Meridian knew the rules. Children below the age of thirteen who had lost parents in the deadly wars of the Canopy Kingdom were welcome to attend, making it a cherished tradition amongst the city's young folk. Many of the kids here were from local orphanages. They more than anyone needed a reason to smile.

Keeping the people of this country together, and keeping those like the Medici from devouring them; this was Parasoul's goal as a member of the royal family. Of course the tragedy six years ago when her mother finally succumbed to the power of the Skull Heart had made that innumerably more difficult. The loss of public faith in the crown as a result was ruthlessly exploited by those eager to take advantage of any perceived weakness on their part. Many ties and old alliances were lost, and it was on this matter she had come here tonight.

"Highness," Egret 13 drew close and pointed off to one side. "There he is."

Parasoul quickly confirmed that Adam and Umbrella were in each other's company before heading in the direction indicated. As she approached, her intended target left off admiring chalk drawings on the floor which some youngsters had proudly exhibited to him. He rose with the aid of a cane as the young woman drew near. "Your Royal Highness. I'm pleased you accepted my invitation."

"No less pleased as I was to receive it," she responded warily.

By now he had reached his full height to tower over her. While of her grandfather's generation, Alessandro Capulet retained a robust carriage despite the injury to his leg. He wore black gentlemen's evening dress with onyx buttons and a black silk cravat. Age had turned his short curly hair mostly gray as well as carving deep furrows in the fleshy folds of his face. His eyebrows grew wild and wooly, but the black eyes beneath retained the keen alertness which had been his hallmark in many a financial dealing. They now focused on her in a way that felt eerily reminiscent to the start of a duel.

"Good evening, Princess." At Alessandro's right hand stood his eldest son Tiber wearing a white tuxedo. A bachelor in his forties, Tiber shared the Capulet's stocky build combined with crisp black ringlets and a handsome face that had supposedly conquered many a lady's heart. There had actually been talk of him being a potential suitor for her when she was younger, which prompted them to meet and speak on formal occasions. Despite his reputation, Parasoul found Tiber to be a courteous and intelligent man well invested in his family's business and the affairs of the kingdom. They might have been a good match, or at least remained friends. Sadly events outside their control precluded either from taking place.

Remembering this allowed a sad smile to work up Parasoul's face as she returned him an otherwise courtly nod. "Hello, Tiber. It's good to see you again."

"Likewise." There might have been an attempt at reciprocating her smile there, but his eyes held only grief. It reinforced her sense of the delicacy regarding this situation. Parasoul turned back to the elder Capulet. Best start with a side matter.

"I'm grateful you saw fit to permit my sister to attend the Soiree for the first time. It means a great deal to both of us. I never felt comfortable explaining the reason behind why she was not allowed to before."

Alessandro stared at her for a few seconds, face devoid of any expression. It made her uncomfortable, and when he did finally speak his voice had turned cold. "Family exists to protect one another. In that regard I do not begrudge you sparing her from hearing the truth."

Neither of them appeared ready to openly discuss the reason behind their families' falling out. Parasoul didn't know whether to take this as encouraging or not. It was no secret that six years past, when Queen Renoir finally became a Skullgirl in her own right, one of the victims in the ensuing supernatural carnage was Alessandro's granddaughter Ruby. She was no older than Umbrella when she died, a fact that gave Parasoul chills to this day. But even worse, the power of the Skullgirl then reanimated the poor thing as a mindless corpse, whereupon she proceeded to kill her own mother Marta, the only daughter of Alessandro and apple of his eye. She too rose as an undead; attempting to save his daughter and grandchild left him with only a shattered leg to show for it.

Their grievous passing caused something to break in Alessandro's heart as well. Following the Queen's defeat he publicly renounced all ties with the Renoir and refused to do business with them in any capacity, even going so far as to move to New Meridian and ally himself with Lorenzo Medici, an old acquaintance from days gone by. The loss of raw goods in terms of steel and valuable metals had hurt the crown's ability to undertake any reconstruction process following the war. Even now previously bustling parts of the capitol remained derelict, and Lorenzo had been quick to seize upon these areas for his own purposes while his stronghold of New Meridian flourished. In this way the vicious Medici Mafia had profited from her own family's loss for the last six years.

But now something had happened. Her contacts within the underworld hinted to Parasoul that a rift had developed between Lorenzo and Alessandro quite suddenly. What it might be she couldn't say, but following soon after this came the request that Umbrella attend the Soiree for the first time ever.

Parasoul had seen this out-of-the-blue invitation for what it was: a plea for help from the Capulet patriarch. It presented an opportunity to weaken the Medici and restore valuable ties with a well-respected member of the community. Such a chance didn't come around every day. How could she pass it up? Parasoul knew as well as anyone the risk Alessandro was taking in turning his back on Lorenzo. Many who had dared to do the same in the past found Death followed shortly after, her face hidden behind a black veil. Even now, at this very moment, she might be waiting…

"Why, Princess Parasoul," a deep-throated rumble intruded upon her thoughts. "How delightful. What brings you here this evening?"

Recognition sent an immediate thrill of danger through every nerve. Regardless the princess managed to keep any distress from showing as she slowly turned to glare at the person who had spoken.

For his part, Vitale Medici maintained an easy smile as he strolled up to them with a relaxed gait. Children got out of his way without having to be told. Cold dead eyes like that proved intimidating at any age. Glasses lent this scion of the Medici a somewhat erudite air, and he wore a subdued brown coat and tailor-made trousers over a stout body running to fat. One might almost mistake him for a lawyer or even a politician; someone civilized and harmless. This was an impression he liked to cultivate. Any child of Lorenzo who had lived as long as him could not be taken lightly regardless of appearances.

"Who let you in here, Medici?" Tiber growled as the older man came to a halt several feet off. His father did not react in the slightest, only watched with hands folded over the ivory hilt of his cane. Egret 13 stepped closer to Parasoul, who had drawn back to stand protectively at the elder Capulet's elbow. Their precautions brought an amused snort from Vitale at this united front.

"No need for hostilities." The _capo_ gave a smooth bow to the princess before nodding courteously to Alessandro. "I've come as a goodwill ambassador in demonstration of my family's commitment to its allies." He indicated over their shoulders. "I even brought a gift for the children."

Only then did the excited buzz of the crowd register to Parasoul. When she chanced a look behind, an explanation was not hard to find. The 'balloon tree' that had caught her sister's eye earlier had now risen ten feet into the air. Hoisting what must be several hundred pounds of carved wood overhead was a person she recognized as Hubrecht 'Hertz' Adelherdt, a member of the infamous Cirque des Cartes. The cheerful giant was laughing good-naturedly as children jumped and screamed at his prodigious display of strength. He wore only a wrestler's leotard with a long pink bow tied around one wrist. Bald for the most part, he sported a single lock of light pink hair twisted into a heart shape atop his head with a moustache of the same color.

When Hertz carefully crouched down to settle the tree back on solid ground, children came streaming forward to climb up his broad back or dangle from those enormous pinions. The older boys pounded on him with their fists and feet or pulled on his moustache, eager to test how durable he might be. While some of the adults present beseeched them to stop such bad behavior, the circus strongman only chuckled at their roughhousing like it was nothing.

 _POP!_

Quick as a flash Parasoul reached for her weapons without thinking. A second later it dawned on her she was unarmed, while at that precise instant, numerous balloons tied to the prop tree's branches came down all at once in a waterfall of color, causing the startled children to go wild with delight. They left off examining the muscle miracle and set to bouncing and swimming through their new playthings.

Another series of pops caused every eye to return to the tree. Standing in a newly cleared spot within the boughs, a solitary figure stood with arms upraised as though demanding a spotlight. _"Is everybody having fun?!"_ she cried aloud, at which the happy orphans screamed in agreement. Teal lips grinned at their adulation, and the young woman swept a bow with diamond-stockinged legs crossed. Her black eyes sparkled with excitement, caramel skin glowing under the bright lights, and Cerebella the Diamond Dynamo leapt down from her perch. Hertz caught her, his huge hands encasing the high-flying acrobat's shapely waist with ease. He set his partner down, and just like that the two circus performers had become the undisputed stars of the evening.

Alessandro Capulet came around to regard his other uninvited guest with obvious disfavor. "I gave you no permission to be here, or your thugs. You should know I will not overlook any act of violence that may occur."

"You have nothing to fear." The crime-lord pulled out a handkerchief and used it to clean his glasses, the very picture of casual nonchalance. "If you take a closer look, you'll find nothing in the way of weapons on my associates, whether Living or otherwise. We are not unmindful of the rules regarding these proceedings." He lifted the frames up and inspected them, looking right at Alessandro. "As if the Medici would stoop to hurting children."

 _Not like it's ever stopped you before._ Despite thinking this, Parasoul took note of the truth behind his words. Cerebella was a well-known favorite enforcer of Vitale's. Just as famous was her arsenal of choice, the two-fisted headwear called Vice-Versa. And one look at that spiky ponytail of minty-green hair proved the Living Weapon was nowhere to be seen. She was a solo act tonight, as it were. The only extra-strong arms in attendance belonged to Hertz, and official intel pegged him as being unaware of the dark side to the Cirque des Cartes and its fellow members. Judging by the wide grin he was sporting, ignorance must certainly be bliss.

Her heart clenched when Parasoul saw a familiar pink head surging forward. Umbrella laughed and jumped heartily as any other youngster her age around the two entertainers, oblivious to the threat they represented. Even the sight of Adam hovering not a foot away couldn't dispel her unease. More than ever she missed the reassuring presence of Krieg close at hand. Cerebella was bad enough. Could Vitale have brought more?

Hold on… how did she bring down all those balloons so fast?

"Magnificent, don't you agree?" Vitale Medici came up at her back, crossing his arms with the same comfortless smile as before. "No one brings them in like Cerebella."

"She's certainly…" Parasoul thought for a moment before choosing an appropriate adjective, "…limber."

"Of course," he replied. "After all, she was trained by Black Dahlia."

Unconsciously her eyes flicked around to search for any telltale sign of the bearer of that title. No black veil presented itself, though. It was disturbing how relieved that made her feel. An accusing glance from the princess caused Vitale to give a hollow chuckle. "You have nothing to fear, my dear. Dahlia won't be joining us this evening. In fact, she's accompanying my father at the opera as we speak. I'm sure you can confirm this for yourself with little effort."

Parasoul relaxed somewhat. While having the Dahlia nowhere near here did not assure the Capulets' safety, it certainly went a long way towards putting her own mind at ease. At the very least it meant they wouldn't have to worry about an outright bloodbath. Black Dahlia had a reputation for indiscriminate casualties. Parasoul liked to think even that woman would draw the line at opening fire in a crowd of children, but if anyone could… it was her.

The commander of the Egrets threw a look at her bodyguard, who nodded and moved a few paces off to begin speaking urgently into a radio attached to his chest. While #13 sought to confirm the situation she turned back to Alessandro. "Mr. Capulet, will you excuse me for a moment?"

He regarded her intently, but at length his head dipped in acquiescence. With a final warning look at Vitale she moved to rejoin Egret 13. At the same time Parasoul scanned the whole room. From a defensive standpoint, it was a nightmare. The main force of her guard waited at the front of the building. There were children everywhere, and more unconfirmed adults than she would like. If it weren't for how badly she wanted this alliance to happen she would never have consented to come, much less bring Umbrella along with her. Now her worst fears seemed to be coming true. An attack right now could easily prove a disaster.

With sudden certainty she knew this had been a mistake. What was I thinking? I've put myself and my sister in danger. If Lorenzo wanted Alessandro dead he'd never let a few children get in the way of that. Maybe he wouldn't condone slaughtering kids outright, but the Medici would find a solution. Murder was their business. Although come to think of it, if that was their intent, this selection of talent seemed off. Hertz was a non-combatant and Cerebella, for all her physical prowess, did not have a reputation as a killer. Why would Vitale bring them?

Egret 13 drew up close to her. "Ma'am, I've communicated with our units stationed outside and informed them of the situation. They did not see Vitale and company enter the building, but we have visual confirmation that Black Dahlia is across town at the opera house. Our agents saw her enter the booth with Lorenzo and they haven't left since the performance started twenty minutes ago."

Parasoul made no response. Despite hearing this she felt no reassurance. Something was troubling her and she couldn't say what. Off to one side Tiber had begun to speak heatedly with an unruffled Vitale while his father looked on. In this little island of relative isolation made by their presence she examined the crowd. Noise everywhere. People moving constantly. Much attention was still being paid to the stars of the Cirque des Cartes, and now they had been joined by a few of the clowns.

She focused on her sister. Umbrella appeared to be arguing with another little girl over who would get to ride on Hertz's shoulders next as he crouched beside them patiently. Cerebella balanced atop his bald pate on only one hand doing pushups with legs spread straight out to either side. Adam unsuccessfully strove to defuse this altercation before it got ugly.

While his back was turned, a clown juggling three bowling pins drew up behind him.

An alarm went off in her brain. Already Parasoul was moving forward, about to shout a warning. Holy Trinity, please let me be wrong…

Between one flip and the next the clown caught a pin by the neck and brought it crashing down on the back of Kapowski's skull.

He crumpled instantly. At the same time his attacker grasped the body of the pin and twisted. It came off in his hand, revealing a blade which he now brandished aloft. And then there was nothing between him and Umbrella. The little princess looked down at her fallen protector in confusion, then up at the painted face looming over her. Several children screamed. Parasoul was crying, howling and half-mad with fury as she fought frantically through the uncomprehending mob of kids.

" _DEATH TO THE MONSTER!"_ the clown roared as he brought the knife up.

A huge fist caught his wrist with ease. Before he could even attempt to free himself two powerful legs wrapped around his head, followed by a flurry of punches straight to the grease-painted face. Moments later the would-be assassin slammed back against the ground in a limp heap.

Cerebella vaulted off him with limbs raised in readiness for combat. Behind her, Hertz had crouched down and wrapped an arm around the stunned Umbrella to cradle her securely against his broad chest. His enormous frame seemed to envelop the tiny royal within a canopy of warding muscle. Meanwhile the belligerent acrobat had taken up position before them. Two more clowns rushed forward, each armed with wickedly sharp knives and nightsticks which they had produced from their baggy clothes.

A third was attempting to push his way past the flood of shrieking children when a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly spun him about. Parasoul's elbow collided with his brightly colored jaw so hard it cracked bone. He fell without a sound. Intending to retrieve one of his weapons, she was precluded from doing so by a stampede of tiny feet over the body.

Another clown, this one a woman, had noticed her and moved onto the assault. While her face was daubed with a big happy smile, the angry snarl she wore proved far more telling as to her temperament, to say nothing of twin daggers held in both overhand and underhand positions. Unarmed, Parasoul prepared to face this challenger. A quick glance behind found Egret 13 occupied with his own opponent. Farther back Alessandro had crumpled to the ground clutching his chest and struggling feebly. A frantic Tiber held him upright while calling for help as Vitale knelt nearby.

A feint with a knife followed by a quick slash forced Parasoul to concentrate on her own safety. Her attacker followed in pursuit. Despite that ridiculous costume, it was clear this person had significant combat experience. Military training? Most likely. There were no longer any kids left in the vicinity, but she couldn't reach the fallen assassin's weapons since this one stood in her path. By now the Egrets outside were bound to have been alerted to something going wrong. Still, it could take upwards of five minutes for them to make it past the fleeing crowd and into the building where they might make a difference.

All of this was secondary in her brain. At the forefront was a simple instinctive command: _Protect Umbrella!_

The clown prowled slowly towards her. Suddenly Parasoul kicked one high-heeled shoe at her face, followed by its mate. The woman knocked them both out of the air, a testament to her reflexes, but by then the princess was already darting around in a bid to make it through to Umbrella.

Quick as a flash the assassin sped to intervene between them. Parasoul could have screamed in fury. She closed the gap to immediately go on the offensive. A sweep of the leg failed to connect as the clown danced nimbly aside, yet when she moved to take advantage of this, the woman launched two quick stabs at her face that caused her to flinch away. At this point the princess resolved to stay her ground. She stepped into a combat stance, one bare foot behind the other and body angled sideways facing her opponent, presenting less of a target. Her golden eyes blazed coldly at the painted wretch as she waited to take advantage of the next move. But to her surprise, the assassin only crouched in one spot with daggers raised.

"I don't want to hurt you," the clown hissed. "For your own good, just let us do this!"

Before she could respond, a scream sounded. Parasoul's throat clenched. Both she and the woman looked over in time to see a figure tumble to their knees clutching its stomach. Blood spilled out to besmirch the white marble.

Relief overtook the princess as she realized it was one of the two fighting Cerebella. The Diamond Dynamo now turned her attention to the remaining assailant, who drew away in sudden consternation. Smiling, the sultry girl slipped backwards, crooking a finger invitingly while she did, as if to say, 'Come and get it!' One of her heels left a smear of blood with each step. Hertz still crouched behind her sheltering Umbrella with his whole body, who despite her squirming attempts to escape could not slip through that gentle but powerful hold.

Cerebella's black eyes drifted over to lock with Parasoul's. She seemed to take note of the dagger-wielding clown. Lifting one foot quickly behind her, the trapeze star flicked a catch to draw something small out of her boot like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat. Flashing a wink at the princess, Cerebella then lobbed this item in her direction. "Heads up, Your Highness!"

The female clown jumped to intercept it, a quick-thinking move that nonetheless proved costly. Before she could reach her target Parasoul sprang into the air and planted a kick right in the small of her back. The clown grunted and fell to land as well as she could, still clutching both weapons securely. Before she could right herself Parasoul had caught the thrown object.

For a moment she stared mystified. It looked for all the world like the slim handle of a sword, but no blade was evident. As her fingers closed around the hilt, however, there came a sharp click. From out of the crossguard shot a finger's-length of sharpened steel, followed by another from within it, and yet another. In under three seconds Parasoul found herself holding a tapered sword that measured just over two feet long. She took a practice swing to gauge its mettle, finding it to be remarkably well-balanced and light for what amounted to a prop sword. Nevertheless its edge was undoubtedly keen.

Her body came alive with joy at finding a weapon so well suited to her. Not wasting a second Parasoul leapt to the attack. Her newfound blade lashed out with blinding speed. The clown responded quickly in turn, twin knives moving as one to block every strike. Yet now the advantage was clearly not in her favor, and she gave ground rapidly before the furious royal's relentless assault. Parasoul swept across the floor as though dancing. She almost caught herself shouting, "Cry, Krieg!" so intoxicated was she by outrage and bloodthirsty resolve. There was no fear in her enemy's face, only anger at finding herself so outmatched. But it was nothing compared to the howling beast now encased in the breast of the princess, begging to be let loose and tear into their victim's flesh. _You filth! You came after my family! How DARE YOU!_

Still managing to ward off the swordswoman's blows, the clown took a step back that landed directly on a bright pink balloon. It bunched before popping to send the woman teetering off balance. Parasoul's saber licked out to smack sharply into one hand and send its dagger flying. With a cry the clown fell onto her backside, raising the remaining knife in defense as she did. Her scream of thwarted despair as a follow-up backhand slash knocked the short blade away was music to Parasoul's ears. With both hands clasped around the hilt she raised her sword overhead and brought it down.

 _My sister… my people! UMBRELLA!_

At the last second her grip shifted so that only the flat of the blade slammed into her opponent's forehead. The clown's body went limp and she slumped heavily to lie senseless.

For a moment Parasoul stood gasping with chilly sweat dripping down her face. Why did I…?

Never mind! Got to save Umbrella! Where is she?! Off to one side she noticed Egret 13 twist the other clown's arm behind his back with an audible snap. A kick to the knee sent them both pitching forward, with that painted face slamming into the cold unforgiving floor. #13 punched him once more in the back of the head for good measure, then snatched up club and knife and came sprinting to aid his mistress.

Parasoul looked over in time to see Cerebella bend backwards at the waist to avoid a swipe from a nightstick. Her upper body then continued in this motion, spine contorting with ease into a perfect bow until her palms touched the floor. In counterpoint one diamond-patterned leg snapped up like a switchblade to kick her assailant squarely in the groin. He gave a grunt, some manner of armor clearly defending that vulnerable spot by the way he remained upright. But even this could not diminish the force of that blow in full, as his nightstick dropped from spasming fingers. Before he could recover Cerebella pushed off the floor and twisted in midair, her free leg windmilling up to slam into the side of the clown's face. His own body spun in a complete circle as this side kick lifted him clear off the ground. When he landed it was clear there was no more fight left in him. The circus showgirl somersaulted backwards and found her feet, eagerly casting around for the next opponent.

"Yay!" Umbrella clapped exuberantly while still being held by the strongman. "That was _awesome!"_

Cerebella rounded on her audience with a grin. She bowed to the little princess in true showman's style.

Running to rejoin her sibling, Parasoul saw movement off to one side. The first man laid low by Cerebella had regained his senses. Still on the floor, he slipped a hand into his baggy trousers. To her horror it emerged holding a pistol. The click as he cocked it rang clear as a bell.

She didn't shout a warning, or even point out the danger. Instead Parasoul hefted her blade over one shoulder and flung it. The sword went scything through the air end over end with a whispering sound. _Holy Trinity, please!_ She noticed Hertz's head turn as the clown pointed his gun at an unsuspecting Umbrella. That great body surged in response.

A shot rang out.

The clown gaped as the sword severed his hand at the wrist before spinning by trailing drops of blood. He made a grab for the gun with his remaining limb, only for a second sharp blade to nail that arm to the floor. Then the pain set in, and he started screaming. Cerebella lifted her foot away, a knife returning to its hiding place inside her heel. She dropped down to straddle the prostrate amputee, gripped his hair with both hands and bashed his face against the ground until he lay unmoving.

Her head came up, face filled with concern. "Hertz?!"

Parasoul reached him at the same time as Egret 13. She knelt swiftly before the big man. He had curled in on himself so that his broad back faced the ceiling, a solid ball of pink muscle. Blood pooled visibly beneath him.

"Is it over? What happened?! I can't breathe! Will you let go of me already?"

Hertz gave a shudder then and slowly came up. Parasoul felt her heart lurch at the sight of more blood. A moment later she realized that none of it belonged to Umbrella. The little girl crawled forth unharmed. She got up and dusted off her knees perfunctorily. "Sis?"

Strong arms wrapped around her frame as Princess Parasoul dropped down and hugged her cherished sibling. She was shaking in triumph. "You're safe," she whispered, dizzy and joyful so that she had to close her eyes or risk collapsing. "Thank the Trinity!"

The sound of trooping feet heralded the entrance of more Egrets. They came pouring into the convention center past a ring of frightened youngsters who still lingered pressed up against the walls uncertain of what to do. The air was filled with juvenile screams and sobs as their caretakers strove to console them. By this point Officer Kapowski had been brought back around with the help of Egret 13. After a brief discussion they moved to address their fellows as both princesses were too busy attending to one another. The fallen hitmen were rounded up and bound securely.

After assuring herself no harm had come to Umbrella, Parasoul turned her attention to the bleeding Hertz. The bullet had entered his shoulder right above the collarbone. There didn't look to be an exit wound of any kind, which meant it was still in there. Cerebella had rushed up and torn off one of her long sleeves, wadding it up to press securely against the wound. Hubrecht seemed largely disinterested in any injury done to himself. His partner looked wildly about for aid. "Vitale! He's been shot!"

Immediately Parasoul beckoned to her men. "Egrets!" she barked. "Get a medical team in here pronto! This man protected your princess and he needs help!"

"That won't be necessary." Vitale Medici came strolling up, ignoring the hostile impression many of the masked soldiers gave off upon recognizing him. "We shall tend to our own. Do not trouble yourselves on our account." He drew closer to stand beside Cerebella. The teal-haired powerhouse supported the big wrestler while looking to her employer beseechingly.

"Mr. Muscle?" Umbrella wriggled free and came trotting over, concern now written large on her face. She clasped one of Hertz's cantaloupe-sized mitts. "Are you gonna be okay?"

" _Ja wohl,_ little _Alpenrose_ ," the bulky entertainer beamed at her. He patted the girl's head with utmost gentleness. "I am strong, you see. Come watch me perform, _ja?_ Pink hair, we stand together, no one can tell us apart! If I shave my moustache, that is." He wiggled the small pink push broom adorning his upper lip, and Umbrella giggled in delight before returning to join hands with her older sibling. Parasoul felt proud to see the normally bratty girl expressing compassion for another. Will wonders never cease?

Right then Alessandro Capulet emerged through the crowd of Egrets supported by his son. In all the excitement she had completely forgotten about him. He seemed to have recovered from his episode and now stood bent but tall once more. "Princess, are you hurt?" Tiber asked with concern.

"No." She looked down at Umbrella, who grinned giddily back. It made her smile without reservation. "We're both fine."

With a brusque motion Alessandro pulled his arm away from Tiber and tottered forward, cane tapping with every other footstep until he stood before the two princesses. Parasoul glanced up at him. The old man didn't seem to notice. Instead his oddly distracted gaze lingered on her little sister, who regarded him curiously back.

A spasm twisted the elder Capulet's face. Without warning the arm holding the cane swung up to hang trembling in midair.

She reacted immediately. Her sword rose to ward Umbrella before the blow could fall. A flurry of clicks preceded several Egrets drawing pistols to aim at Alessandro, and Cerebella bounced upright ready to leap in once more.

" _FATHER!"_

Tiber caught his sire by the arm and pulled him roughly back so that they almost toppled over together. Alessandro spun about, teeth clenched and eyes bulging with wrath. He sought to yank free, but the younger man held on without giving ground, preventing him from moving with his own face pale but no less determined. "What are you _doing?!"_ he demanded.

Alessandro stopped struggling. Slowly his quivering head turned until he confronted Parasoul once more. Sheer grief was evident in every line of his face.

"You let that thing live."

One gnarled finger thrust forth to point at Umbrella, who flinched and blinked bright red eyes. "That… spawn of a Skullgirl!" Alessandro snarled."Born of the demon who killed my Marta and her little Ruby! She was only six years old. And this _monster…!"_ His ragged voice ascended to a shrieking pitch, "… should not be allowed to survive any longer than that! You have betrayed this country and its people by letting it live! Look! Look around, all of you!"

He indicated about the brightly colored room with his chin where children wailed in panic or sat on the floor sobbing.

"Do you see all this pain? DO YOU?! How can you MOCK their suffering by parading that FREAK around in fine clothes catering to its every whim? As though it has a greater right to happiness than they do! Have you no sense of decency?! Where is your shame! And you claim to be our protectors? Our _rulers?!"_ He spit contemptuously at Adam Kapowski, who drew away with blue eyes blazing in fury. "You are all TRAITORS!"

As he railed and wept, Princess Parasoul rose with a host of Black Egrets clustered at her back ready to attack. She glared menacingly at the vengeful old maniac, then around at the wondrous garden of delights he had built. This whole evening, everything… all orchestrated so he could murder a child. My sister. And I almost let him get away with it.

Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her borrowed sword. She could almost hear her father's voice whispering in her ear. _Outrageous! Kill him and be done with it. Let all see what becomes of those who dare strike against a member of the Renoir royal family! It is your right! It is your DUTY! KILL HIM!_

"Sis?"

She looked down to find Umbrella clutching her dress in a beseeching manner. "What's going on?" the little girl whispered. "Why'd he call me a monster? What'd I do?"

Parasoul studied that innocent little face. Blood-red eyes beseeched an answer from her big sister. And she knew what to say in response.

"You are no monster."

Bending down, she cupped those soft pink cheeks between her hands.

"You're my sister. You can be a pain and sometimes even cause trouble, but this… you are in no way responsible for this. You are not to blame for any of the grief brought forth tonight, nor is anyone alive today. What's done is done. The tragedies of the past, whether six years gone or occurring as we speak, must not be allowed to overrule our judgment. We have to let go of all that if we are to make one another and our kingdom truly happy."

It was true. The Canopy kingdom came first, and the people were the kingdom. Maybe for this reason she had refrained from killing anyone tonight even in the midst of battle. After everything her father's pride and mother's fall had cost the public, she could not see them as her enemy. Because Parasoul especially respected life, and conversely, death. The Renoir must never sink to the level of the Medici. I will not become another faceless executioner whom my people must fear.

 _And if I want that to remain true,_ she thought to herself, _I'll have to stand as an example. For my people… and for you, sister._

With that Parasoul drew herself up with regal grace to regard the panting Alessandro. A brief vengeful impulse was suppressed. Just as Tiber was about to speak she said, "I forgive you, Alessandro Capulet. You are both free to leave. Do so before you cause any more harm to your good name than you already have."

Tiber didn't seem quite sure what to make of this. He glanced back and forth between her and his father. However when nothing more happened he leaned in to whisper in the old man's ear. Still not taking his eyes off of Parasoul, the shivering head of the Capulet clan allowed himself to be led away. Obeying their leader, the Black Egrets opened a path to allow them to reach the exit, whereupon both men departed without further altercation.

"Well," Vitale Medici mused from a few paces off, examining her thoughtfully. "You certainly have the air of _sang-froid_ down pat, Highness."

His voice caused a resurgence of hot-blooded anger in her heart. Several things were now abundantly clear, and she rounded on him with golden eyes flashing. "You _knew!"_ the red-headed military leader accused the blithely smiling gangster. "You knew exactly what Alessandro was planning to do! That's the reason behind the falling out between him and your father. And you didn't even try to warn us!"

Vitale's smile vanished. He regarded the outraged royal with a flat, calculating look that made her feel unaccountably juvenile. "I provided you with a mighty sword and shield," he responded coolly. "What more could you ask for?"

Parasoul paused as the truth of his statement dawned. She looked over at the wounded wrestler, who had regained his feet with help from Cerebella. Noblesse oblige had to be respected whatever their affiliation. To Hertz she said, "You have my thanks." She then turned to the high-flying fighter, proffering the sword hilt first. "And you as well."

The younger woman accepted it back gingerly, retracting the blade and returning it to its resting spot in the sole of her boot. "Just doing my job," she murmured before returning her attention to her comrade. At a nod from Vitale, the three of them marched off, Cerebella still supporting Hertz as well as she could. He swayed a little on the way out but otherwise gave no indication of weakness. "Take it easy, big guy," they heard her encourage him faintly. "Don't worry. We'll take you to see the Architect, he'll patch you up in a jiffy!"

"NO! Not him!" Hubrecht responded in alarm. "He will turn me into _roboter!_

"No, Hertz, he won't turn you into a robot, I promise. Hertz, he won't turn you into a robot!" she insisted when he started blubbering like a big baby. The argument faded as the Medici representatives disappeared.

"Commander." Adam had quietly spoken to some of the guards around the captured clowns and now returned to deliver his report. "They insist they acted alone, or rather all those who have regained consciousness. At least two are former Canopy Kingdom soldiers by their admission. Most claim to be motivated by the loss of parents or loved ones during the… incident a few years back." He coughed self-consciously while studiously avoiding Umbrella's eye. "No mention of Capulet being involved."

She digested this information for a while. For all that she had shown him mercy, Alessandro would not get off scot-free after this. Parasoul resolved to see him brought to justice. In the meantime they would have to make certain he didn't leave the city.

But first thing's first. She knelt by her sister once more. "Sis, are you feeling alright now?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Umbrella responded distractedly. Her eyes lit up, and she began to hop in one place. "OH! A petting zoo! I didn't see it before! C'mon, let's go check it out!"

Before she could stop her the six-year-old was racing over to investigate the pens holding sleepy puppies and prancing ponies. As if it were a signal, more children drifted over to follow her lead. Soon they were all once again laughing and screaming delightedly like the last few minutes never happened.

Parasoul watched her royal sibling play with children her own age. She allowed herself a fond smile as she turned to begin discussing the situation with the hovering Egrets. There was still much to do this night.

* * *

A limo streaked through the streets of New Meridian. Sitting inside, Alessandro Capulet kept both hands clasped over the head of his cane. Across from him Tiber sat watching with eyes that demanded an explanation which was not forthcoming. Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

At length the elderly businessman stirred. Without looking at his heir he finally whispered, "I told them… no guns."

Tiber's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"No guns," Alessandro insisted, staring at the wedding band he still wore even after all these years. "I didn't want any of the children to get hurt. Knives if they must but no guns. I was very clear. They should have listened to me. It would have been different if they had."

The other Capulet leaned forward. "Are you mad?" he demanded in a soft voice. "Did I hear you say that you did not want to see any children hurt, when you just tried to _murder a child?!"_

Alessandro's black eyes flicked up to regard him. "Have a care how you address me, boy. I am your father. You will treat me with respect or you will no longer be a part of this family."

"You utter and complete _fool!"_ Tiber gasped. "Can you not see what you have done? Our family is finished! Our reputation, our pride… you have sacrificed all of it! To satisfy your insane grudge! The Renoir will be coming for you now. No one will stand to defend us after this. I cannot believe you would do something so despicable!"

As he spoke a radio set into the seat cushions began to beep. Without hesitation Alessandro reached over and picked up the receiver.

"Don't you DARE answer that! I am not finished speaking!"

"Do not presume to order me, you faithless pup," his father answered back. "I am not beholden to you or anyone alive." He pressed a button on the handheld device. "Yes?"

" _Good evening, my old friend,"_ a merry voice emerged from the speaker.

Both Capulets tensed. Alessandro blinked in surprise before clutching the receiver in his broad fist, teeth gritted with fury. "Lorenzo! You _traitor!_ You betrayed my trust! How dare you approach me after what your brood cost me this night!"

" _Ah, Alessandro. I am very disappointed in you. We have known each other since we were children. Yet when you came to me for counsel, I warned you that the enterprise you proposed to engage in was not worthy of a gentleman of your stature. The very idea, slaughtering a child… tsk-tsk. I am deeply troubled by your lack of character."_

Listening to this, Tiber could not help but feel a weight of fear in his stomach. He glanced around uneasily as if expecting to find armed killers surrounding them.

" _So you know, Dahlia too expressed distaste when I relayed your request to her. She seemed to feel such a task was beneath the skills of an operative such as herself. 'Child's play', she termed it, and not in a flattering vein. I could not help but agree. One does not murder an innocent babe, and a princess to boot. Not without good reason, at least. And you have clearly lost all trace of reason if this night serves as any indication."_

So unnerved by this recitation was he that Tiber failed to notice the car was slowing until it actually came to a halt. He tapped on the tinted window separating them and the driver. "Hey, what's going on?"

The chauffeur in the front seat did not reply. A single cold eye regarded him in the rearview mirror. A press of a button, and from the doors all around, there came a click.

Now Alessandro too had taken notice. He peered out the window. Neither of them had been paying any attention to their route, and now they found themselves parked in an empty warehouse on the docks. Through the open cargo doors they could clearly see the bay of Little Innsmouth, its waters gleaming black under a full moon.

"HEY!" Tiber grabbed a door handle, only to find it was locked. He tried to lower the windows but they too would not respond.

While he was engaged in this, the driver doffed her chauffeur's cap and placed it on the seat beside her. She then picked up another hat that lay close at hand to settle it securely upon her head.

As she opened the door and stepped out, a black veil fluttered in the salty breeze blowing off the bay.

Tiber was beating against the glass shouting in hoarse frightened tones. Meanwhile Alessandro stared in shock at his frantic offspring. With dreadful certainty he knew what this meant, and he grasped the receiver in trembling hands. "Lorenzo… please. My son had nothing to do with this. He was not involved, he is innocent! Please… I beg you… let him go. He is not to blame. It was me, all me! I will answer for my actions, only please–!"

 _"We all are subject to the sins of our fathers, eh?_ _I fear I must be going now, old friend. There are other matters that demand my attention. Perhaps in the future you will learn to heed my counsel. But then again, it might be true what they say… you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. Regrettable."_

A group of women wearing bunny-girl outfits and skull-themed masks waited silently in the center of the warehouse. Military-grade machine guns rested with ease in their hands or on their shoulders. As the driver approached, one of them stepped forward bearing a huge modified arm cannon. Their leader removed her coat as she walked to reveal a mechanical right arm emerging from a torn shirt sleeve. She grasped this artificial limb at the elbow with her remaining hand and detached it. Upon reaching the group she handed over the arm while accepting the customized cannon in turn, attaching it securely to her missing limb.

After giving a few practice shakes to check the balance, the woman in the veil nodded to her party. As one, they all turned and took aim at the sealed limo.

Alessandro shook uncontrollably as he watched this. "Lorenzo…" he managed to croak. "You go to hell."

" _Do take care, Alessandro. My best to your sweet daughter and grandchild."_

The radio clicked off. As it did, Tiber sprang forward to grab his father. With manic strength he threw the old man to the floor of the vehicle and flung himself atop him.

"TIBER, NO!"

A volley of automatic weapons opened fire. In seconds every window of the car had shattered into shards of glass. With an almost musical noise like hail falling on a tin roof, the doors were perforated by hundreds of bullets. All four tires blew out with loud pops. Despite this they made sure not to aim for the gas tank. In the meantime the relentless fusillade proceeded to reduce the remainder of the vehicle to a bullet-riddled wreck.

When it was over the firing squad approached the ventilated mess. Their mistress removed her deadly attachment and once again substituted the mechanical limb from before. Without any hesitation she pulled off one of the rear doors with the same ease one might rip away a butterfly's wing and looked inside.

Tiber's white tuxedo had turned crimson. He lay spread out unmoving on the floor, face covered in blood but eyes still open. Beneath him, Alessandro had been spared the worst of the assault. Despite being shot over ten times they could clearly see him breathing. Whether Tiber still lived was not so clear. His bloody cheek was pressed against the old man's, who stared up at the ceiling with tears pouring from his eyes.

The one-armed woman climbed in beside them. Through her veil she gazed down at the gasping Alessandro. He could hear her smile when she spoke next.

"That's a loving son you've got there, Capulet. I hope you appreciate him now."

The dying patriarch looked up at her as though she were a devil. She reached down to grasp Tiber's head by the hair, lifting it up slightly so that Alessandro could see his face. The eyes stared down at him, mouth hanging open slightly. They were nose to nose. The killer then pulled a 9mm Luger from her waistband. Slowly and deliberately she pointed it at the back of Tiber's skull.

Alessandro drew in a deep breath. A prolonged gasping moan came from his throat, like a distant scream.

Upon hearing this, she smiled and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, three times. Both bodies jumped, but she didn't stop until she had emptied the clip.

Black Dahlia stepped out of the car and took a moment to appreciate her handiwork. She tossed the empty pistol off to one of her girls. Soon afterwards the executioners melted away into the night.

* * *

Word came before dawn. For a time Parasoul felt certain she must have misheard. At length she insisted on going to the scene herself. When she arrived, forensic specialists from the Egrets were already hard at work. As she stood on the dock overseeing their labors with both hands resting on the hilt of Krieg, the red-haired officer imagined she could smell the blood all the way from here. She tried to assure herself it was just the tang of the ocean, without success.

"Commander." Adam saluted with strict efficiency as he came up to her, although clearly these proceedings left him ill at ease. "We have some initial findings but…"

"Report."

"Yes, sir. Our investigation has led us to believe the attack occurred early in the evening, perhaps half an hour at most following the incident at the Soiree." He swallowed before holding up a plastic bag holding several shell casings. "In addition, a preliminary examination confirms that these are military issue. The same type used by the Egrets. Also, we found… that is…"

Two Egrets trooped by hoisting a gurney covered in a white shroud between them. There didn't look to be much by way of a head under that blood-spattered sheet.

"Proceed, soldier," Parasoul ordered tersely as she watched the body on its way to the ambulance.

At this Adam drew forth another bag with a different set of casings. "These were in the limo. We believe they were used to confirm the kill. We won't know for certain until the Lab reports its findings, but they're clearly 9mm shells."

The princess reached a hand down to her thigh where a Luger P08 equipped with 9mm cartridges rested securely in its holster. It was her signature firearm. Pretty much everyone knew that. Next thing you know she'd probably hear there was evidence of an umbrella-shaped weapon being used on the bodies. Didn't feel like taking it that far, Lorenzo? "Was there any change in the recon report we received last night?"

Kapowski dropped his gaze, clearly troubled. "No, sir. Our agents confirmed that Lorenzo and Black Dahlia stayed for the entirety of the performance, lasting until 1 AM. Neither of them left the opera house before then, not even during the intermission. Their alibi is air-tight, although Lorenzo did place a call around what we estimate to be the time of the shooting."

Might as well ask; you never know. "I don't suppose you came across any dahlia flowers in the vicinity?"

His head rose, sky-blue eyes narrowed in frustration. "No, Commander."

Parasoul turned and looked out to sea where the sun had just started to peak above the horizon. Bravo, Lorenzo. Doubtless every single bit of 'evidence' we find here will point straight back to me and the Egrets. Certainly won't make it in my best interests to see this taken to court. Even if that wasn't the case, by now the story of what happened has gotten around. If anyone had a reason to see Alessandro dead, it was me. Which means I'm just cleaning up your mess while you congratulate yourself on another victory.

Laugh while you can, Medici. One day I will bury you and all your monsters. Count on it.

So resolved, Parasoul headed back to Canopolis to get some rest before proceeding to address her kingdom's future.

* * *

Cerebella carried a newspaper under one arm as she jogged through the halls of Medici Tower. She was feeling keyed up and couldn't wait to tell Vitale the news. After racing up a flight of stairs she came to a landing where an oak-paneled door was guarded by two familiar faces. "Morning, ladies!"

"Hey, Bella." One of the two armed Skull Bunnies lifted her mask and winked. "Vitale's inside, he said you can go right in."

"You alright, Clover?" the circus star asked in concern. "You look pretty beat."

"Don't mind me, I just had a late night. The boss lady needed somebody to fill in for her and it was my turn." Clover reached down to rub her stockinged thighs vigorously. "Gotta admit, those metal leg covers really chafe after a while."

The other Skull Bunny chimed in. "That's the price you pay for being one of the few who can pass for Dahlia from a distance. Not like anybody's gonna try to check under the veil, right?"

"Maybe if you gained a few pounds you might have the chance to find out yourself."

Cerebella left them to their discussion as she grasped the door handle and let herself in. A small conference room was kept mostly dark except for a desk lamp burning on the table. On one side sat a stout young guy with curly hair in a nice suit. He was signing his name time and again on what looked to be a small hill of paperwork, looking extremely ill at ease. The reason for this might be because Black Dahlia stood directly behind his chair with one arm draped over the backboard. She looked up as Cerebella approached and nodded her head in greeting. The girl grinned and waved excitedly at her combat instructor before spotting her real target and skipping over to join him.

Vitale Medici leaned against a wall as she came up. "Did you see the news, Vitale?" his ward whispered excitedly so as not to disturb their guest. She opened up the paper for him to view.

"Hmm." The mafioso's heavy-lidded eyes traveled briefly over the banner headline: 'CAPULET HEAD AND HEIR APPARENT SLAIN!'

"Talk about a showstopper!" Cerebella exclaimed, turning the paper around to examine the story again. "Boy, that princess didn't waste any time, huh?"

"Nor would we if someone dared attempt to assassinate a member of our family," he pointed out to her crisply. "I for one do not begrudge her actions, violent and lawless though they may have been. Seeking to murder a child on account of something her mother did…" Vitale shook his head in grave disapproval. "Such a disgrace."

"I kinda think she might have gone a little overboard," the beautiful teen admitted. "I mean, that younger guy didn't seem to be in on it from what I could tell. It doesn't seem fair that she killed him too."

"In fact, that is precisely what this meeting is about." He indicated over to where their unnamed guest continued to affix his signature to numerous legal documents. "To defend himself from the Renoir's lingering wrath, Old Man Capulet's youngest son, Amulius, has approached us to ask for protection."

"Oh, I get it!" Cerebella placed a thoughtful finger to her diamond-painted cheek. "The Medici are the only ones who can possibly hold off the Renoir. He'd be a sitting duck without us!"

"Precisely. In honor of their long friendship, my father has decided to look after Alessandro's last living heir. Actually, it was Amulius who informed us of his parent's disastrous decision to try and assassinate the princess on his own. In gratitude for our aid, he has generously agreed to sign the Medici on as full partners to Capulet Inc. Now his future is secure, and we will safeguard him from the vengeful Renoir so he need not suffer the terrible fate of his father and brother."

The Diamond Dynamo beamed, twirling her partner Vice-Versa on one finger. "If they do come after him, I'll make sure to bring down the house! They'll find it won't be so easy with us on the case!" She hugged Vitale's arm in eager euphoria.

"Do not presume too much, Cerebella," the crime boss warned sternly as he disengaged himself from her. Vitale started walking towards the door leading out, and a disheartened Cerebella hurried to catch him. "I am still disappointed in your performance last night. Thanks to your careless grandstanding, Hubrecht was hurt. It was only due to the grace of fortune even worse did not befall him. You must never lose sight of your mission again, understand?"

Her high spirits plummeted at his admonition. "Yes, Vitale. I'm sorry." The girl's head drooped and she bit her lip, twisting her cap in between both hands. "But I forgot to tell you! Archie finished patching up Hertz. He said the bullet didn't do any serious damage, so a few days rest and he'll be good as new! I took him home an hour ago. Feng's looking after him, she should be on top of things."

"I'm pleased to hear it." Her benefactor paused with his hand on the doorknob, noting how the orphan enforcer still appeared dejected. "Tell me, did you enjoy being able to attend the Soiree one more time?"

Her colorful cockscomb rose and she nodded eagerly, face alight once again. "Absolutely! It was just as great as I remembered! And this time there was fighting too, which is even better!"

"Yes," he nodded. "Good. Well, you did save the young princess and even her sister. The family has benefited from your efforts once again, my dear. Now I think it's best if you should head back and check up on Hertz to make sure he is doing well."

Vitale opened the door and gestured for her to proceed him. Feeling hopeful once again, Cerebella danced contentedly from the room.

On the way out, the Medici _capo_ paused and looked back over his shoulder. He caught Dahlia's eye, then glanced briefly at the nervous new Capulet patriarch before giving her a nod. In turn she smiled and leaned hungrily over the back of Amulius' seat, watching him sign away more of his family's profits with every flick of the pen.

Satisfied, Vitale closed the door and went on his way.

 _To be continued…_


	3. Fright Night

A girl in a dowdy green dress hovered on the edge of a teeming crowd, when a vampire rose behind her. Red lips parted to display perilously sharp fangs as the creature drifted up to whisper in her ear.

"What's that thing on your head, Filia?"

She came about and her face lit up with a smile. "Ohmigosh, Nestra! You look amazing!"

"Right?" Her classmate stood back and spread her pitch black cape out to either side, revealing crimson satin lining and a hem cut to resemble the wings of a bat. "I'm a full-fledged 'Queen of the Night'!"

Filia admired the other girl's costume. The midnight cloak was clasped at the shoulder by a blood-red ruby. In addition to this she wore a white men's dress shirt with a big lace cravat at the throat and silver cufflinks in the shape of wolf heads. A purple silk vest boasted black bats stitched into it, while her pants had tiny silver spiderweb patterns that vanished and reappeared whenever she moved. Nestra had added dark eyeshadow to turn her eyes into hollow pits. Pointed detachable canines flashed white against her carmine lipstick. Some might mistake the pair of black horns sprouting from her forehead as another costume accessory, but Filia knew this was just a mark of Gigan ancestry on her part. With rich golden locks falling around her shoulders, Nestra now looked more the part of undead noblewoman than privileged daughter of the upper class.

"Seriously, though," the bloodsucker pointed meaningfully at her friend's crown. "What are you supposed to be, anyway?"

" **Toldja nobody would get it."**

This slightly muffled voice caused Filia to pout. "Fine, you win, Samson." She then turned back to her other conversation. "I'm 'Raggedy Annie'! Y'know, from that old TV show?"

Nestra's brow creased in a frown. "Wasn't that from before we were born?"

"I guess. Not like I would remember either way." Filia gave a helpless grin and dipped a curtsy. Her knee-length hoop skirt flared nearly as wide as Nestra's cape had been, filled out by a fluffy petticoat or three. In addition she had on an apron with a huge golden star emblazoned upon it. Black shoes with gold buckles nicely complemented green and yellow striped stockings. Filia had painted her face white with rosy red cheeks and pink lipstick. The crowning touch, as it were, came in the form of a messy green wig with curled ringlets, some of which dangled before her right eye. A white bonnet completed the outfit.

"You look weird with green hair," Nestra stated. She then leaned a bit closer and directed her next words to the hat. "You doing all right in there, Samson? Getting enough air?"

" **Very funny, girly,"** the Parasite grumbled back. They could hear him rustling a bit under the cloth. **"What'd you come dressed as, a bull? Got the horns for it."**

"Don't mind him," Filia strove to make up for her ally's bad manners. "You want to get some punch?"

"I never drink… punch," the vampiric crossdresser intoned in a deep menacing voice. Then she grinned. "Except tonight, of course."

Both girls then made their way to the refreshments table. This party was being held in the ballroom of a building dating back to when the academy was still a ladies prep school. The ceiling was ornamented with several splendid frescoes detailing the Trinity, and beautiful glass doors led out onto a patio that offered a breathtaking view of the campus. Until now none of them had ever been inside it before as the complex had fallen into disuse and disrepair over the years. But recently a family whose daughter attended school here had donated funds to see it made whole again. Now that the restoration was complete they were all celebrating.

And not a moment too soon. For it was Walpurgis Night in New Meridian, the time when folks of all ages dressed up to celebrate the dark and its various terrors. All around them other students from the academy were enjoying this most creative of evenings. Wolf-men on the prowl chatted with elven princesses and creatures from outer space. Mummies came unwound on the dance floor alongside shambling Gigans. There were barbarians and warlocks debating content from their favorite role-playing games, while some rather lifelike Black Egrets argued over whose costume was more authentic. Adult chaperones were present as the occasional ghost in a sheet or a witch if they were feeling adventurous. At the same time, some real-life uniforms were evident in the form of waiters and waitresses hired to cater the event. They drifted around the festivities with platters of traditional Walpurgis fare and hot drinks to ward off the chill of the evening. Photographers were on hand snapping pics of the event, with many of the students only too happy to pose in their finery.

"Mmm!" Nestra downed a cup of sweetened cherry juice only to eagerly refill it. "I think I'm getting into character. I just can't get enough of this stuff!"

"You really do look fantastic," Filia opined while snacking on feta-stuffed olives made to look like eyeballs. "Did Mitzi help with your outfit too?"

"Oh, yeah. She did the vest and altered the cape for me. I was worried she wouldn't have the time to work on her own, but she said it was all right. It was really nice of her."

"I know." She toyed with the green strands dangling before her eye. "So any mention of what she would be wearing?"

"Not a peep." The undead queen appeared to have quenched her thirst for the time being and was setting to on a platter of pumpkin-shaped cookies. "I take it she wouldn't tell you either?"

"Nope. When I guessed mermaid she just went 'Non!' and when I tried Black Egret, she said it was 'horseradish and handkerchiefs' for me. I think that was her way of saying I was close but no cigar."

They both giggled. Mitzi Bisset was a foreign exchange student who started attending their school about six months ago. This came shortly after Filia had lost her memory, which might have contributed to her efforts to make the expatriate teen a part of their community. Mitzi had a shy personality that was compounded by her less-than-perfect grasp of their language. But a little willingness to include her in their daily goings-on soon proved her to be a very lovable person.

She was also quite the fashion buff, and would excitedly regale anyone willing to listen about popular wardrobes nowadays and their influences from the past. Mitzi's family came from old money in the textile industry. She herself wielded a mean needle and thread. Once the tradition of Walpurgis Night had been explained, she was only too happy to offer her services to anyone in need of a little work on their costumes. The results were nothing short of phenomenal, leaving Filia proud to have befriended her.

Right then Nestra pointed over her shoulder. "Hey, check it out, it's the hero of the hour."

When Filia turned, it was to the sight of flashbulbs going off. The photographers had all clustered near the main entrance where they were seemingly determined to use up whole rolls of film. And no wonder. At the center of this media feeding frenzy, Penelope Prospero was basking in the attention. Her costume stood out all on its own, being a mix of Old World royalty from a bygone age and modern accessories. It closely paralleled that worn by a local celebrity in the music business, though not nearly as busty. Penelope even had on a black wig and a tall golden staff which in no way looked like a prop. Two big fellows in suits wearing masks of jackal and hawk stood at her back.

"Wow!" Filia breathed. She'd known it was the Prospero family who donated the funds to rejuvenate this building, but seeing Penelope like that really drove it home. She looked absolutely giddy while posing for the cameras. If there was a star of the evening, it had to be her.

From beneath her wig a yellow eye peered out briefly before retreating back. **"Hmph! Showoff…"**

"Hey, that's not nice!" Filia protested. "Her family's the reason we're even having this party! Can't you show a little appreciation?"

She could hear Samson's teeth grinding. **"Yeah, sure, zippi-dee-do-dah for little Miss Money Bags."**

"No need to ask who she dressed up as." Nestra was tugging at the collar of her cape as though it had grown uncomfortable. "Y'know, that lady always creeped me out for some reason. It's like, how old is she, really? Talk about vampires."

" **You don't know the half of it, girly."** Samson shifted restlessly in his nest of hair. **"Just don't sniff around or you'll get more than your nose hairs clipped."**

Filia shook her head in disappointment. "I don't know what the deal is with you two. Come on, let's go say hi!"

She then set off down the ballroom floor. Samson was along for the ride, of course, and Nestra followed after loading her plate with more free food. Upon catching up she leaned in with a frown to whisper, "I think the real question is why you're _not_ joining in. I mean, you and Penelope used to be close before… well, your new hairdo." She tweaked one of the green curls dangling from under her friend's bonnet. "But after that, it's like she just stopped talking to you altogether. Even joined a different class."

Mention of her past caused Filia to look down at the floor with troubled eyes. "I know. But I just thought… it's bad enough forgetting everybody in my life. I don't want to think how awful it feels to be forgotten by someone you cared about." She glanced over and flashed a sad smile. "Right?"

The Gigan breed's painted eyes dwelled on hers. Eventually she nodded glumly. "Yeah. Point taken. C'mon, she's already on the move. Just follow the paparazzi. We can…"

The plate she was holding slipped from her fingers to clatter against the ground.

" _Holy Trinity!"_

"Ness?" Filia noticed her reaction and stepped back. She reached out and touched the other girl's arm in concern. "What is it?"

Nestra only continued to stare. Unnerved, Filia turned to look in the same direction.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Towards the front of the hall, Penelope and her attendants had drifted off with the photographers in tow. Other children came forward to greet their classmate, and soon enough her group was absorbed into the larger swell of adulation.

Back where she had entered, a new figure had appeared. A starched white cape draped around her shoulders to hide one arm. What looked to be white stockings at first glance covered her legs to halfway up the thigh, peaking out of a dark purple opera dress. Her hair was bound up under a pillbox hat with a ruby pendant sporting a feather.

From this there fell a heavy veil that completely obscured the woman's face.

" **Kid, what's up? Your heart's going a mile a minute. Filia!"**

She couldn't bring herself to respond back. _Run away,_ the words whispered in Filia's mind. _She hasn't seen you yet. Run away before she does. Run and hide, just run, Filia, run before you're spotted by–_

Before she could, one gloved hand rose and drew away the veil.

From beneath it, a pair of anxious brown eyes scanned about before landing squarely on Filia. With that Mitzi Bisset smiled in relief and waved hello.

Oh mercy.

Without hesitation Filia sprang quickly forward. After a moment Nestra followed close behind, black cape billowing behind her as she ran. The two of them made it up to Mitzi as she was fussing with her veil, attempting to get the hat positioned properly. "Happy Wal-pur-ji _, mon frére!"_ she exclaimed as they skidded to a halt. "How are you doing?"

" _What the hell is wrong with you?!"_ Nestra demanded in a hiss so sharp that the foreign teen flinched like a chastised puppy.

"You have to leave!" Beside her Filia's face had gone white beneath the makeup. "Don't ask why, come on, you need to get out of here now!"

"What?" When she made a grab for her arm Mitzi stumbled back in confusion. They couldn't see her face through the veil, but by her voice she sounded on the edge of tears. "Why are you upset? What do I do?"

"Just trust us, please!" Don't let anybody else have seen, please don't let anybody else see! Filia glanced anxiously at the crowd behind them. As she did, one of the other students dressed as a desert nomad turned his head and spotted them. Immediately his face blanched upon catching sight of Mitzi and he reached out to pat another student hurriedly on the arm.

For one horrific instant Filia saw herself killing him, as clear as day. The shock of this vision served to snap her out of it. Too late anyway. And besides, how many people already caught sight of her on the way here? She's been marked by now. They're bound to start asking questions. Word will get around, you can't stop it.

So what can I do?

A plan formed so fast it was like lightning in her brain. It was the only solution that had any hope of working. She looked about and spotted a door off to one side. "Come on!" Quickly she grabbed the flustered exchange student by the hand to yank her along. Nestra took up step between them and the crowd without question, holding her cape out to hopefully prevent anyone else from catching a glimpse.

None of them spoke. Filia felt Samson sneak another peek from beneath her hat. He didn't ask, and she didn't bother to question if he really understand what this was all about. But she knew. Everybody living in New Meridian knew.

It was an unspoken rule. On Walpurgis Night, you could dress up as anybody you wanted. Police officers, TV stars, even Princess Parasoul. But absolutely no one was allowed to dress as a Skullgirl. It was an ironclad rule maybe as old as Walpurgis itself and got updated every time a new one appeared.

And just as well known, though not quite as ancient, was that under no accounts were you ever allowed to dress like _her!_ This was not so much a question of bad taste as bare survival. Filia might not remember her past, but this she knew without having to be told. Not like she had ever thought about it before now. But just by seeing Mitzi's costume she suddenly felt the danger for all present.

They reached the door and yanked it open. Filia dragged Mitzi in behind her while Nestra took up guard outside.

Pulling on a chain dangling from the ceiling flicked on a bare lightbulb, which allowed them to see they were in a broom closet. Panting slightly, she turned to look at Mitzi, who had taken off her hat and stood there trembling. "Umm… what do you bring me in here for?"

While she knew they didn't have much time, there was one thing Filia needed to know. "Just tell me why you're dressed like that."

She looked bewildered just to be asked and glanced down at herself. "What is wrong with it? Did I make a misstep? Is my slip showing?"

"No! Do you…" She felt close to tears at this point. "Do you not know who that _is?!"_

" _C'est quoi?"_ The way she said this made the answer clear. Her head tilted to one side in a painfully clueless fashion. "I see her in the newspaper. She is _célébrité_ , no? Very pretty, very chic. I put everything together for the look."

" **What, didja skip reading the article? Or does 'bloodbath' mean something different where you come from?"**

This jab from Samson caused Mitzi to duck her head. When she looked up her cheeks were red. "Am I in trouble?"

And with that any last lingering trace of hesitation was dispelled. Not like this. Not over some silly little mistake no one could have possibly foreseen. I'm not letting her take the heat for this!

She pulled off both hat and wig. "Here, hold these."

The other girl complied without asking. Shoes and stockings came next, and now that slight blush was going a deeper shade of crimson. However, when Filia reached up and yanked her dress right off to be left only in her underwear, Mitzi's eyes went big as could be. _"Filia, what are you DOING?!"_

"Don't ask questions." Reaching forward, she seized hold of both flushed cheeks and drew close. The look of fierce resolve she wore apparently precluded any need for further explanation.

With that, Filia leaned in and pressed their lips firmly together.

About five minutes passed. One or two people came by to ask Nestra if she knew anything, but she adamantly refused to elaborate. She wasn't completely sure what the plan might be; perhaps Filia simply intended to keep her in there until the party was over and they could sneak Mitzi out. However knowing her as she did, she got the distinct impression a passive approach would not suit the Parasite-wielder.

The door creaked open, and out stepped a girl in a Raggedy Annie outfit. The makeup was applied somewhat sloppily, but her lips were candy-pink and her cheeks rosy spots of color. Nestra stepped closer and conversed briefly with the person still inside. After a bit of anxious imploring she seemed to accept her role. They clasped hands briefly, after which she turned and took Annie's hand. The girl was a bit dazed and kept glancing behind her as they walked away to rejoin the party. Nestra patted her shoulder in reassurance. After this she called out to a few of their classmates. "Hey guys, check out Mitzi! She's some TV character I've never heard of!"

While they were talking, Filia watched from behind the doorframe. She felt sick to her stomach. It took every drop of resolve she possessed not to just shut herself in here and wait it out. But sacrifices had to be made for this to work.

" **Don't worry. Whatever happens I've got your back."**

"I know I can count on you."

With neither sound nor fragrance, a Black Dahlia emerged for all to see.

This time lots more people took notice. A hush descended as if on cue. It felt like a spotlight was shining on her. Filia self-consciously adjusted the bust of her dress even though it made her feel foolish for being concerned about something like that. This gown was tailored for Mitzi's dimensions, which meant it was somewhat tighter on her in… certain areas. At any moment she feared popping out. At least the shoes were a decent fit. Also whatever photo Mitzi saw must have had the right arm covered up by the cape, otherwise she might be lugging around a prop cannon.

Oh, well. Showtime.

Now that several people had got a good look at her face, she finally dropped the veil. Seeing the world through this made everything appear strange. Like they were all ghosts on the edges of her perception. Was this the sort of thinking that made it so easy for the real one to do what she did? Or was it something much deeper and more wrong than any sane person could imagine.

She walked slowly, feeling hundreds of eyes on her every movement. There were shocked whispers and murmurs galore. No one dared approach her directly however. A space was cleared within three arm-lengths of her. It spread with every step. She caught sight of one of the photographers uncertainly point his camera, only for another to quickly lay a hand on his arm, giving a firm shake of the head to emphasize this was not allowed. They all then turned and quickly began snapping pics of the other partygoers with an intense determination.

"Hey!" Filia waved at a few boys from the soccer team dressed as gargoyles. None of them returned the gesture. They wore the same looks of disbelief and fright so that she actually felt guilty putting them through this. But it had to be done. More and more people edged away from her. Even the adults weren't coming close. She'd half-expected to be asked to leave right off the bat. Except nobody seemed willing to meet her eye.

Like I didn't already know how bad this was. Now I feel even worse.

A glimpse of Mitzi safely off with some other girls served as a reminder. Straightening her shoulders, Filia marched on. "Hey, how's it going, Jimbo! Karl, that's a great Panzermeister outfit. Did you make it yourself? Bai Long! Are we still going shopping next Wednesday? I saved the date!"

* * *

Half an hour later Filia felt more bedraggled than she could ever remember being in her admittedly short memory. It was utterly nerve-wracking having to behave like nothing was wrong when that so wasn't the case. Her presence had cast a noticeable pall on the festivities, and after a while it left her more guilty than afraid. So about five minutes past she had finally retired to a couch near the patio doors well away from the main festivities. Nobody joined her.

She glanced around the room through her veil. Was that enough? There was no way to tell if anybody would actually spread the word about this incident. Most people in New Meridian didn't want to get involved in the darker side of things. It was this willing blindness she hoped would allow the whole affair to blow over without a fuss.

Having grown so accustomed to being ignored, she failed to notice someone approaching her.

"Filia."

Her head came up with a start. "Oh… Penelope!"

The other teen stood in front of her. Up close her costume looked even more incredible. But the expression on her face did not show it. Penelope looked Filia up and down like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, causing her to squirm a little. At last with a disbelieving shake of her head, she spoke. "I don't get you."

There was a measure of ragged grief in her voice that couldn't be feigned. It caused Filia's heart to plummet, but before she could say a word, Penelope continued.

"It's like one day we're friends, and the next, you can't even remember my name. Everything we did, every talk we had and all the stuff I told you… you just forget about it like it wasn't important! I don't know if it was cause of that _thing_ that attached itself to you or what." She flicked an angry gesture at the hat beneath which Samson hid. "And I told myself it wasn't just me, so I shouldn't take it personally. You weren't trying to be mean about it, you're just… not well!"

She threw up her hands in a despairing gesture, letting them flop back to her sides. "At least that's what I thought. But then I had this idea to have some fun and let everybody dress up and forget about who they are and who they aren't anymore and for one night let them be whatever they want to be, and you do… THIS!"

Penelope's face twisted, teeth clenched with tears smearing the mascara down her face. _"Why do you have to be like this, Filia?! Seriously, WHY?!"_

Filia stared at this person who had known her once. She felt only confusion and dismay; none of the obvious anguish that Penelope was experiencing. Were we that close? Why can't I remember?! C'mon, anything! Darn it brain, work!

There came a hot prickly feeling in the back of her head. For just a moment a flash of something familiar emerged: one time Penelope had been crying with her head in my lap. I was stroking her hair and saying it would be alright. Because someone had… left her? Was that it? And I helped her get through it.

She opened her mouth to share this, when suddenly it just went away, leaving Filia wondering what she had even been about to say.

All that came out was a whispered, "I'm sorry."

Penelope watched her face for a few moments as though waiting for more. When nothing came she started sobbing, clutching her staff to stay upright. Immediately Filia stood to try and comfort her, but the girl turned and dashed back to the two masked attendants who took her over where the other students clustered.

Slumping on the couch, Filia stared at her hands. The sounds of the party drifted away. She sat in a cone of silence where no one could intrude on her.

What's the point? No matter what I do, I wind up hurting someone. It's not fair! I can't help not remembering! Can't anyone explain to me what's going on?

The couch cushion shifted. Surprised, she looked up to find two waitresses sitting to either side of her.

"Hey, kiddo. Mind if we take a load off?" one of them asked.

"Oh… uh… no, go ahead."

"Thanks."

Both women then leaned against the backrest with a sigh, stretching out their legs and kicking off their heels. Neither of them said anything else. They were both young, and attractive. In addition, they didn't seem concerned at all about what she was wearing. This bothered her a little. After less than a minute sitting like this, Filia started to grow concerned. She moved to stand up. "Please excuse me."

As she did, gentle hands slipped over both her wrists.

"Wait a minute, okay, Filia?"

"Just stick around," the other waitress stated. "Someone wants a word with you."

The girl looked between them in turn, but neither would meet her eye. Their attention remained languidly drifting over the festivities taking place far removed from them.

A growl came from the vicinity of her scalp. She knew why Samson was getting agitated. There was a sense of danger coming off these two no matter how relaxed they might appear to be. Yet they weren't doing anything overly threatening. And in spite of her instincts she wanted to know what this was all about. They could handle themselves in a fight if it came to that.

So resolved, she settled back down.

There was no further attempt at conversation. The women had let go of her once it was clear she didn't intend to leave. For her part Filia kept a close watch on them out of the corner of her eyes. In addition she maintained a lookout for the rest of the partygoers. A glimpse of Nestra and Mitzi was brief, along with other members of their class still moving about seemingly unaware of her current predicament.

As she watched, however, a certain color caught her eye.

At first it was just a glimpse; the briefest flash of red. Then it came again. Someone was moving towards them through the crowd, wearing a long winding scarlet wrap that covered virtually all of her frame. A woman, that much was evident. One arm was bare, while the other remained completely concealed inside a capacious sleeve whose tasseled end dangled near the floor. A hood was drawn up to shadow her features. The crowd parted for her as though obeying some urgent signal. Filia could only stare, rooted to this spot in a way that had nothing to do with conscious choice.

Finally the woman loomed tall before her, but instead of stopping she ghosted around behind the couch. The Parasite-fighter tensed as she felt this shadowy specter draw up at her back. There came a rustle of cloth as she bent closer.

A hand came down on her shoulder…

"Hello, dear."

… and Filia whimpered.

"I'm pleased we have this chance to talk. It feels like forever since I could make the time." Strong fingers squeezed her bare flesh, now chilly and prickled with goosebumps. "Too long, it seems. I leave things unattended and look how they turn out."

Not thirty feet away people were laughing and talking. So normal. Like this wasn't taking place. Through her veil they were back to being phantoms residing in a dimension unaware and unmoved by her pain. And it did hurt. Like a sickness coursing through her veins, or a wound leaking blood from where their bodies touched. She was caught in a bear trap with icy teeth digging into her that were only a preface to the cruel, lonely end that awaited.

A pair of lips came up to whisper in her ear. "I'm glad to see you, Filia."

Filia could only stare straight ahead with her mouth hanging open slightly. The woman smiled and drew her left arm up to wrap around the unresisting girl's throat in a gentle embrace.

Bands of purple hair shot from beneath Filia's hat to wrap around the lady's limbs and throat. They tightened menacingly, accompanied by a furious snarl. **"I'd think twice about putting my hands on the kid if I were you, freakshow! Otherwise you might be missing more appendages than you ca–"**

"Unless you want my girls to open fire into that crowd of children, _Parasite,"_ that deadly voice broke in before he could finish, "you'll keep your roots to yourself and your mouth shut until we gals have finished our little chat."

The threat caused Filia's heart to labor like a bellows. To either side the two waitresses had shifted in their seats, allowing small firearms to be glimpsed beneath their uniforms. One of them lifted a finger casually and pointed. When Filia looked she noticed several more waitresses around the crowd had turned and were now looking right at her. Their fingers drifted into vests and sashes with deliberate slowness. The implication was clear.

"Samson, let her go!" she whispered in terror. "Do it now!"

He complied with a rumble of thwarted outrage, retreating back out of sight until he was no longer visible.

"That's better." The red ghost threw a look at her two followers. "Give us some space, will you, ladies?"

They obeyed, rising to retrieve their shoes and rejoin the party, becoming just another pair of waitresses as they did. Soon it was only Filia and the woman left to one another's company.

She had regained her power of speech, and so the desperate teen sought to use it. "Please, I–"

"I don't ask for much, Filia."

The sound of that voice cut off her own with the force of a knife slash across the throat.

"Not fame, and not even money. Those things I can do without." Her words took on a faint touch of reproach then. "But what I do ask for is respect. It costs people nothing, yet they behave as if it's a word in a foreign language."

Her tone descended to a low pitch. "Which is why, when I hear that some ditzy little immigrant is traipsing about dressed like me without a care in the world, it makes me upset, Filia. Very upset. So what should I do about it, hmm?"

It wasn't enough. She knows. Somehow she still found out about Mitzi. What now?

"Please… it's not her fault," Filia gasped. "She didn't know! She's only been here a few months, nobody thought to tell her. She…" A desperate hope dawned. "She thought that you were pretty! That's all! It wasn't meant to be an insult, I swear, so please–"

"Don't _beg,_ Filia."

The reprimand caused her throat to clench. Sweat dripped down the girl's face to pool in her collarbone. Shaking fingers fisted convulsively in the deep purple folds of the dress.

"Not you. Everyone else, but never you," the woman continued softly. "If you want something, why, you just have to look at me…"

Cold fingers reached up to touch her chin through the veil, turning her head so that they were face to face.

"… and ask."

Beneath the hood there was a half-mask in the shape of a red skull that covered the top portion of her face. And over this fell another veil, deep dark crimson that prevented anything from being made out clearly. Even so close, with her own veil adding to the confusion, Filia only got the vaguest impression of a human being behind that mask.

What should I do?

 _If she was just going to kill, she wouldn't have told anyone before doing it. She's here because there's something she wants from you._

 **Fight her, Filia. You're not the same as before. You've got Samson, together you can beat the Dahlia.**

 _It's about who you were. And whom you were going to be. That's why she won't let you go._

 **You don't need to think. Just take Black Dahlia down now and everything will be over, you'll see.**

 _Give her a reason to expect more from yo–_ **You can do it. You can save them this time, Filia!**

That was enough. There was only one way to get out of this. She had to fight, she had to win! Filia took a deep breath in preparation.

On the verge of lashing out, a firework went off in her head.

' _FILIA!'_

There was only sound. No images to accompany it. Pouring rain. Splashing through puddles. Crying and gasping for breath as someone nearby exhorted her to run. Bullets firing, women shouting. And from behind them, a raging, howling voice was raised in blackest threat.

' _Get BACK here! Don't you dare try to hide from ME! FILIA!'_

Still holding that same breath, Filia looked at the scarlet menace gazing expectantly at her.

From out of the girl's throat spoke a voice cold and fierce.

" _Don't_ … hurt her!"

The woman cocked her head to one side, studying the face behind the black veil.

Then she smiled.

"That's my girl."

The masked death rose then and stepped back. Filia heard the patio door open behind her and close with a soft click. When she looked over her shoulder, no one was there. Upon turning around it was to spy several waitresses heading out, ignoring the entreaties of the children around them. Soon they too were gone.

" **Hey… nice going, Filia. I think you said the magic word."**

"Yeah?" She took off her hat. "Well, the party's not over yet."

* * *

Filia waited outside to keep an eye on things until the fete ended. Afterwards Nestra brought Mitzi out and she offered to walk her back to her dorm room. The two of them set off across campus. The whole way there Mitzi didn't speak a word.

At last they stood before her door. "Well, here we are," Filia supplied unnecessarily.

The other girl rubbed one arm, her gaze fixed somewhere around Filia's shoes. "Thank you, Filia," she spoke in a soft little warble. Dark brown eyes rose to meet bright red ones before darting away again. "That is to say… thank you for helping. It makes me… joy-oos?"

"No problem," her protector grinned. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

That white-capped head lowered until all you could see was a big fluffy bonnet. "Do you… maybe wish to come in with me?"

Filia blinked curiously. Bisset was twisting from one foot to another, clutching her skirt with both hands. She really looked wound up. "I think you should probably get some sleep. It's been a long night."

"… okay."

Mitzi reached into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a key. Suddenly she took a step forward, lifted on her tiptoes and kissed Filia lightly on the lips.

"… _t'aime,"_ she breathed, before darting over to open her door and duck inside.

For a while Filia remained where she stood, moving her mouth slowly around while staring forward. "Well, that was new."

" **Maybe it's how they say 'thank you' where she comes from?"**

"I guess so." With a shake of her head she got back to business. "Alright, let's find a place to keep watch and make sure nothing else happens tonight."

"The only place you're going is straight to bed, little missy."

Parasite and wielder turned with varying surprise to find their homeroom teacher Mrs. Victoria standing behind them with arms crossed. The frosty-looking educator adjusted her glasses with one hand to gaze sternly down at them. "I'll be monitoring the halls this evening to ensure the students' safety. I believe there's been enough excitement for one Walpurgis Night without…" she flicked a disdainful glance at Filia's costume, causing her to blushingly remember just how exposed it left her, "… further incident. Now, off to your room."

"Yes, ma'am!"

There was no attempt to circumvent this stern command. Filia bolted with all due haste.

Mrs. Victoria watched her go. When she was certain they were out of sight, the private school teacher reached behind her and pulled a coiled yellow lasso from the small of her back. She snapped it assuredly between both hands before taking off her glasses to reveal eyes that now blazed aquamarine.

Tonight, Deep Violet was on patrol.

* * *

" **Quite a day, huh, kid?"**

"I'll say." Filia slipped the nightgown over her head and sat down before her vanity mirror. She picked up a brush to begin combing carefully through the Parasite adorning her brow. "Come to think of it, I'm not even certain what it was all about."

" **Don't worry too much,"** Samson jumped to reassure her. **"I mean, everything turned out alright in the end. Why not grab some sleep and tackle things fresh in the morning?"**

She settled down the brush with a sigh. "Yeah, okay."

This ease of mind lasted until she turned around. For there in a pile on the nightstand was the costume she had worn this evening.

The sight of it left her hot and uncomfortable. For some reason it felt as though that empty veil was watching her. With a sudden movement Filia picked up the carefully folded clothing and carried it to her dresser. She opened the bottom drawer which was empty and pushed it in before shutting it securely. There. That should do for now.

She gave a yawn, noting for the first time just how tired she really was. Filia crossed to her bed and crept under the covers. Snuggling in felt wonderful. Right away she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

"G'night, Samson," she mumbled as her eyes closed.

" **Rest easy, Filia. I'm here for you."**

* * *

Time passed. The campus clock tower chimed the hour several times. Throughout the Maple Ridge suburbs, children and their guardians slept peacefully.

Within the apartment Filia and Samson shared, there was movement. A shadow passed from one room to another leaving no trace to mark its passing. Eventually it came to the bedroom door, where it watched the young girl sleeping peacefully.

Beneath the veil, a smile slipped free.

* * *

Class the next day proved much less of a hassle than she expected. Filia came in ready to get the cold shoulder, but surprisingly, the other students appeared no less happy to see her than usual. She noticed Mitzi at her corner desk chatting with two boys, and they exchanged waves. Safe and sound. What a relief.

Nestra strolled over and plopped herself down in a chair opposite. "Don't worry. I spread the word about what really went down. Everybody thinks it's pretty cool what you did for her."

"I don't know if it's that big a deal," the young woman smiled demurely.

"Hey," her friend leaned on the backseat and fixed her with a penetrating stare. "I've never been so scared as I was then. And if it were up to me, I don't know if I'd have the courage to do what you did. Give yourself some credit, Filia." She reached out to offer a companionable bump on the arm. "Got it?"

"Yeah, okay." She flinched while smiling sheepishly. It really was nice to have helped out for a change. Guess there's more to being a good person than simply memories.

At this point she noticed a pronounced absence at the front of the classroom. "Say, what's keeping Mrs. Victoria? Class is almost about to start."

"I saw her go into the headmaster's office earlier," another student pointed out.

"I'll go see how she's doing," Filia offered and jumped from her seat. Once outside she traversed the empty corridors of the school with practiced ease. Halfway there the bell rang, making her nervous about getting called out for tardiness. But if the teacher wasn't present either, that didn't count, right?

As she turned a corner that led to the administrative offices, a door down the way opened and a pair of police officers emerged.

Skidding to a halt, Filia spotted an empty classroom and ducked inside to peep around the corner. Doing so allowed her to spot Mrs. Victoria coming out to join them.

"I have no knowledge leading up to any of these events," the primly dressed schoolmarm insisted as she looked down her nose at the two cops. "If it occurred off campus grounds I fail to see why you feel the need to investigate here."

"Look, this didn't happen by accident." One of the men held up a folded newspaper before her which she eyed as though it were a plagiarized term paper. "We'd just like a little more detail about what might have led up to it. If you cooperate…"

"I believe I've answered your questions. I am already late for class, so if there is nothing else, kindly leave without disrupting our students."

They exchanged a look. Then the one holding the news rag tapped it against her chest, causing Mrs. Victoria to snatch it away. "Fine. Just don't fool yourself into thinking this sort of thing doesn't have consequences. We'll be in touch, ma'am."

The cops left after doffing their hats. Mrs. Victoria watched them go with a twist of her pert lips before whipping around to stride down the hall. As she passed a trash receptacle she shoved the paper into its slot and proceeded on her way back to class.

Filia came out of hiding. She approached the garbage can, watching the door swing slowly back and forth. Like it was a mouth mocking her.

"Samson…"

" **C'mon, Filia, you should get going. Don't want to get yelled at again."**

Her eyes closed, and she shook her head. "No. This I want to know."

She could feel him squirming in discomfort. **"… Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."**

One of his long filaments swooped in and extricated the newsprint, dusting it off as he did. Samson then fanned it out so they could see the front page.

' _LOCAL SCHOOLGIRL MUTILATED.'_

The rest of the article came only in jumbled flashes. _'… emergency call led to… parents found murdered… attacked in their home… right arm removed at the shoulder… legs cut off above the knees…'_

'… _identified as Penelope Prospero, found dressed in a costume believed to have been added after the attack…'_

The picture showed a policeman holding the bloodied clothing in question tucked into plastic bags. After this, Filia dropped the sheet and ran, and didn't stop until she had reached her apartment. Tearing in, she went straight to the bedroom, where she yanked the cabinet drawer open.

No costume was present. But that didn't mean it was empty.

She stared at the peaceful little flower nestled in the base of the compartment. Filia didn't need anyone to tell her what it was.

By this point, she knew what a dahlia looked like.

 _ **FIN.**_


End file.
